Outrun My Gun
by zuzaisaloser
Summary: AU. Violet has always liked to play with fire. Tate was more than willing to help her burn. / Warning: possibly triggering content inside.
1. Prologue

**All of the characters belong to their rightful owners.**

 **Warning** : This story contains adul themes, mentions of self-harm/mental illness, and gruesome descriptions.

 **AU**. Tate is alive, he never committed the shooting.

 **This chapter is quite short. The next one will be twice as long, I promise.**

* * *

She has never been the type to show her true feelings. Discontent was a mere frown on her face. Her anger never outspoken. Best she could come up with were sarcastic remarks. Running upstairs and shutting the door if things got too heated up. Not once did she shout at her father for being a disgusting cheater. On the other hand, not once did she try to comfort her mother. She was always there, ready to listen to her ramblings if need be, but never to offer a helping hand. It is not that she did not have a strong opinion on the matter. If it was up to her, Ben would be long gone, contact cut-off for good. Even more so, if she had the guts she would find that little student of his and spit into her face. But she didn't. All her feelings kept deep inside, the only way to let them go was through slicing the razor across her arms. Or hips. Or chest. She once tried to slide the blade around her throat but she wasn't ready. Not yet. If the day comes, she thought, she will be.

Throughout long months between her father's affair and them moving, she devoted her time to listening. Listening and taking those silly pills supposed to cure her depression.

"Isn't it funny," she thought to herself "that 50 mg of this is supposed to heal my mind?" Anytime she went to the kitchen to take her shot, as she liked to call it, she would stand by the counter and listen. Funny how some people believe they are private while they scream so loud that neighbors three floors down can hear. At first there was no screaming though. Dead silence. Anytime she went downstairs she could hear Morissey's voice pumping through her speakers. Then, occasionally, there would be hushed voice of her father followed by her mother's rapid screaming. Get outs and leave me alones became the most used phrases in Harmon's household. Later came the screaming marathons. Ben would no longer leave when ordered. He would stay and try to "talk things out". His exact words. "Talk things out." As if brutal miscarriage and affair with someone 20 years his junior could be talked out.

"Hey, I fucked my student in our bed. It happened more than once. You slept in the very same sheets as did she. Let's talk this out!" Violet would be disgusted with her father's persistence if not for her sick curiosity. Curiosity that would get her killed one day. Then the screamings turned into actual conversations. The conversations led to the bright idea of leaving Boston and traveling across the country to start "anew". As always, she did not say a word. She was unhappy, sure. But she believed that the best way to put her parents off is to stay quiet. So quiet she stayed.

* * *

Arriving in California was even worse than she imagined. The exaggerating heat was too much too handle. She was used to wearing layers over layers. Oversized sweaters over oversized dresses and shirts over thighs. Not exactly the clothes you would wear on always sunny, always humid West Coast. Although she couldn't deny that she felt a tiny bit excited. She has only ever left Boston to visit her grandmother in Virginia. And now she was across the country. In a new place. She knew right away that she would not make friends here. She knew that she would suffer in the heat. But she was looking forward to overstepping her boundaries. For any normal sixteen years old moving across the country would be maddening because of all the friends left behind, all the high-school sweethearts forgotten, and all the favorite places not to be visited again. She felt the angst too, after all she wasn't a complete loner. Actually, the way she carried herself was considered kinda cool in Boston. But the part of herself that hated her body, and her mind at times, was excited. In some twisted way she was looking forward to suffering under those new conditions. She wanted the sweat to make her favorite, yellow sweater itchy on her skin. She looked forward to being confronted with loneliness, not having someone to sneak out to smoke cigarettes or to drink vodka straight from the bottle while hiding behind the school bins.

Her father's rambling interrupted her peaceful thinking. They were getting close to their destination. Long street with similar houses on the each side, green lawns and exotic flowers. They weren't really exotic. She has just never seen them in real life. Violet's eyes focused on person after person, perfect Californian mothers and their groomed husbands. Each woman with long legs, tiny waist, fake tits and fat-injected-from-my-stomach ass. The way they carried themselves like models on a catwalk made her chuckle. They were all the same. Perfect Stepford Wives, devoting their lives to cooking balanced meals and changing shitty diapers. All of that, of course, when they weren't sucking their husbands' dicks religiously as to make them stay.

At last their soon-to-be house appeared. She would never admit that but after her father's constant rambling about "historical" mansion, Violet looked it up online. She was not disappointed. The Murder House, as it was referred to on one of the websites, was supposedly the place where numerous gruesome events took place. It looked even better than in the pictures. The creepy vibe it was giving out made her smile. Best of all, it wasn't the very same type of building like each of the houses with perfect gardens that they had passed. After stepping out of the car, she had to stop her stomach from turning. Apparently Ben believed that all is good in the family and he held Vivien close against her obvious stiffness. Violet followed them to the door. Stepping in, she felt overwhelmed. The place was huge with wide corridors and massive wooden stairs. Dark wallpaper and bottle-green lamps suited her style. Straight away she left the parents' side to discover what else was there.

"Isn't it beautiful?" She heard her father's voice. It sure was, at least in Violet's book.

"I am going to pick my room," Violet shouted while running upstairs.

"Just not the master bedroom," answered Vivien merrily. Violet's heart was pumping with excitement. The house had at least three floors from what she's already seen, but she suspected that there had to be an attic and cellar as well in such a spacious building. In her head she started making plans. There were only three of them, the master bedroom was on the first floor. If she was to pick a room on the third one she would have all of the storey to herself. That meant that she could do whatever she wanted, listening to her music loud, smoking in her bedroom even. Finally, she stopped in front of one of the open doors. The room had her attention instantly. Dark-purple walls, enormous bed just by the window overlooking the street. It was fully furnitured as well. The desk, the wardrobe, even an old chalkboard on the wall left to the bed. Previous owners did not even remove rugs or curtains. She walked slowly to the bed, taking all of the new in. For the first time in months Violet felt content.


	2. Chapter 1

Violet couldn't sleep. She was leaning by the window frame, her legs dangling nonchalantly. Rolling the cigarette, she was thinking about the upcoming day. Come morning she would have to dress up, pack her stuff, and leave for school. Westfield High. The name reminded her of those fancy boarding schools in England, the ones her back-home friend used to tell her about. She wasn't looking forward to being a centre of attention. Fresh blood. Even better for local kids, she was different. Her slender, boyish figure, make-up-less face. Dirty blond hair, not once dyed, not even with those silly colorful dyes that would wash up eventually. And her clothes. Layered, way too warm for the weather. "Those bitches will have something to gossip about," she thought. Violet knew that she had to find a job as well. That wasn't too bad actually. She has never worked a day till they moved. Her family was well-off and her father always over-protective. But she knew that the opportunity had come. She would land some stable, little job, maybe at a local vinyl shop that she had spotted exploring the neighborhood. She would save up to buy cocaine from the local druggies. Even her school in Boston had cocaine-heads, without a doubt Westfield would have twice the number. She was always curious about addictive substances. Not like she wanted to smoke meth or something, but she had heard that cocaine makes you numb and that appeared attractive to little Violet.

"Will you stop," hushed male voice coming from the street interrupted her train of thought "I won't. Those fucking shrinks mess with my head." She tried to identify where was it coming from and finally her eyes focused on the house on the other side of the street. Open front door caught her attention. In was standing a woman, at least 50 years old, her face worried but persistent. She was looking at the man standing in front of her. All Violet could tell was that he was tall, at least 6ft, broad-shouldered with head full of blond curls.

"You will go to therapy whether you want it or not. I will not risk my reputation around here, Tate." Woman's voice had strong southern accent, but the way she spoke reminded Violet of old Hollywood actresses. She instantly thought of Vivien Leigh and her theatrical way of speaking. Tate, cause apparently that was the man's name, nodded his head. Violet was curious. Extremely curious. She inhaled the smoke, her eyes not leaving the arguing couple. Then the door closed with a loud slam. Tate was slowly making his way down the stairs of the house. That's when he looked up. She should feel embarrassed for getting caught but she wasn't. She stared at him intensively. His face was picture perfect, sharp jaw-line, full lips, beady eyes. Crown of blond locks covering his forehead. He smirked at her and proceeded to the black Mustang parked on the street.

* * *

"Violet, will you please hurry?" said Vivien standing by the entrance door. She was worried that they would be late on her daughter's very first day at the new school. Violet came running down the stairs.

"Sorry, have to look my best" she joked sarcastically. She was wearing baggy black dress, knitted sweater, thighs and leather boots.

"You will melt in those clothes," Vivien's patronizing tone made Violet cringe.

"That's kinda the point." They made their way into SUV parked on the street. Violet didn't sleep at all last night. After her "encounter" with mister-jackass-angel-face she settled on her bed listening to The Smiths and reading.

"You know, me and your father were thinking," Vivien started "that you will need a car. He doesn't trust public communication in this city. I know, that's so his style. Anyway, he decided that it would be for the best if you had your own vehicle. Of course it doesn't mean that Ben is letting you loose. He wants you to drive from and to school... eventually to do some grocery shopping." Violet stopped listening to her mother's rambling after the "you will need a car" part. She was excited. Not that it was showing on her face but the idea of having her first car made her squeak inside. Another step towards freedom. They arrived by the huge, walls-made-of-glass type of building in no time. "That's it for old-school style school," Violet thought. She made her goodbyes, waved at leaving Vivien and started walking towards the entrance. Checking her phone she realized that she still has 10 minutes left. Plenty of time for a cigarette. She didn't know school's policy concerning smoking but following her better judgment she decided to settle quite a distance from the building. Violet unpacked her tobacco and started rolling the cigarette.

"Hey you!" she heard a man's voice. "Shoot. Great. Fucking brilliant. One of those idiots is going to scald me for smoking," she thought. Approaching her was tall, muscled guy with olive skin and raven black hair. His brown eyes were flickering with amusement. She instantly knew that he was a teenage heart-throb, a boy that all of the junior girls were thinking about while applying make-up and picking their most revealing clothes.

"Don't worry. I am not going to instruct you that smoking is not allowed here. I wanted to ask if you could roll one for me as well." Not what she was expecting.

"Have this one. I will roll another," said Violet passing him the cigarette. He took it from her hands and started searching his pockets for a lighter.

"By the way, I am Trevor. You will for sure hear about me anyway but that would be rude not to introduce myself, right?" Violet chuckled at his cockiness.

"I am not really interested in hearing about high-school jocks, but sure. Name's Violet." Trevor laughed exhaling the smoke.

"So, new girl, huh? Where do you come from? Surely not from here. No girl in her sane mind would wear thighs in this heat." His remarks amused Violet. She liked people crossing the boundaries.

"Boston. Good 'ol Boston is where I come from. Thanks for noticing though, I will take it as a compliment." Trevor smirked. For a minute they were sitting in silence, inhaling the smoke. She was examining the surrounding area and he was examining her.

"Okay, Violet," he said extinguishing his cigarette "I will be seeing you...and thanks for the cig." Then he started to walk towards the group of boys similar to him. Tall, muscled, tanned. He for sure was a star of school's football representation or something. Maybe a basketball player considering his height. Not that it mattered to her, she wasn't interested in dating anyone. Well, maybe if it was somehow beneficial to her. Violet made her way into the school building and managed to find her class just as the bell rang.

* * *

Ben was waiting for her at 3 P.M. sharp. Luckily for her, he wasn't making a show out of it. His car was parked down the street and not on the school parking. "Thank fucking God," thought Violet as she was approaching his car.

"My little girl!" he exclaimed with exaggerated excitement. "How was your first day at school? How were the classes? Made any friends? More importantly…met any boys? Do I need to buy a gun?" Not 2 minutes in small space with him and she was already annoyed. Ben was terrible at making jokes. Even worse so, he believed himself to be the funniest guy to ever walk the earth.

"No, dad. Didn't make any friends. Didn't meet any boys. School's alright." She wanted the conversation to be over and she didn't even have to lie. By the end of the day she forgot about ever meeting Trevor. She spent her day lonely, sneaking out for a cigarette or sitting in the library, browsing through books that she had no interest in.

"Your mother told me that you already know about the car." Ben was looking at her. "I picked a nice truck for you," he continued "I am supposed to meet with the guy tomorrow. If all is good you will have it by the end of the week." She didn't respond.

He dropped her off by the house saying that there is some grocery shopping to be done. Violet planned on sneaking quietly to her room but she stopped as she heard voices coming from the kitchen. She put her bag down and leaned by the wall to hear her mother talking with someone.

"No, it is not a good idea at all. I understand that the younger generation wants to make everything modern-looking but this house is a historical site!" Violet recognized the thick accent instantly. The neighbor who had a chitty-chat with mysterious Tate yesterday's night.

"Vivien, I used to live here too and God did I detest those wallpaper but looking back, it made me everything look so rich! Too bad my poor excuse of a husband did not appreciate the beauty of this mansion. I had to sell it and move elsewhere."

"You sold it on your own," she heard her mother saying "I thought you just said you were living here with your husband?"

"He died, terrible tragedy. Good thing none of the blood splashed on the antique wooden furniture. Anyway, God bless his soul." That woman was a freaking sociopath in Violet's book. "Luckily, before that we were able to procreate. The first one did not work out quite as we expected, cruel joke of fortune. Do not get me wrong, I love her to the bone, it is just that I felt punished by Lord himself. The next one happened to be perfectly healthy though. Tall and strong. Handsome. Smart. He is my joy and pride." Vivien was quiet for a moment. Apparently the realization that her neighbor was a sociopath, or narcissist at best, had to sink in. Violet was still standing by the door frame, listening to the women sipping from their cups. At last, the neighbor broke the silence.

"I digress," she stated slowly "When will your husband, Ben is it, be back home? I need to talk to him about the matter I am most concerned with."

"He was supposed to pick Violet from school and do some shopping. I think I mentioned that he would be back by four."

"Well Violet is here now, is she not?" Violet froze at the words. How in the hell did this woman know that? Her face flushed aggressively. Vivien stepped outside the kitchen just in time to catch Violet making her way upstairs.

"Violet? When did you get back? Why didn't you say hello?" The questions were making Violet angry. "Come and meet our neighbor, Mrs. Langdon". Vivien didn't seem too pleased with her presence in their house.

Violet followed her mother to the kitchen. At the stool was sitting a woman that she had seen last night, only that now she could take a better look at her. Her posture proud, legs crossed at ankles. She was wearing a blue, knee-length dress with a floral print. Her blond hairdo held together by ridiculous amount of hair-spray. Pretty old-school if you were to ask Violet. Her neck was graced with white pearls. Similarly, her wrists and fingers were covered in gold jewellery. Her face, although no longer young, was still showing signs of once great beauty. She looked as if set in stone, not showing any emotions. Her brown eyes cold.

"Mrs. Langdon, nice to meet you." Woman's face changed rapidly, now she was giving her a warm-smile.

"Sweetheart, I am so glad that I finally get to meet you. Your mother told me a lot about you." Violet doubted that. Her mother seemed frigid, smile not meeting her eyes.

"I bet she did." The silence that followed was uncomfortable. That's when Ben opened the front door and walked straight into the kitchen, smile plastered on his face. He stopped in his tracks as he noticed three women staring at him.

"Excuse me, didn't know that I was invited for the afternoon tea." His joke went unnoticed.

"Ben, this is Constance Langdon, our neighbor," said Vivien "She needs to talk to you about something. Professionally."

Ben's face changed. Goofy smile left his face as soon as he sensed money from possible appointments.

"Oh, of course. Mrs. Langdon, will you please follow me to my office?" Constance stood up, straightened her dress, thanked Vivian for the coffee and oh-so-lovely chat. Then she followed Ben out the door. Violet looked at her mother picking the cups and saucers from the kitchen table. She seemed relived that Constance is gone.

"That woman is crazy," she spoke pointing at Ben's office. Violet smiled. Yes, Constance was weird, but from what she has already seen that ran in the Langdon family. She made her way upstairs and tossed the heavy boots and sweater into the room's corner. Try as she might, Violet couldn't deny that "creepy" and "weird" was attractive to her. She lit a cigarette and laid down on her bed, thinking what next move should she make on her way to freedom.


	3. Chapter 2

Violet's steps echoed through an empty house. Persistent knocking on the door made her fasten her pace.

"I am coming!" she shouted. "Jesus, I am coming, I hear you!". She was getting angry. She ran to the doors and opened them to see Constance, in all her grace, standing by the door with plate full of cupcakes.

"Violet, darling, I was expecting to see you."

"And I was not expecting to see you," was what Violet wanted to say but instead she settled for something nicer.

"Mrs. Langdon! Please come inside, my mother is…" She didn't have a chance to finish her sentence as Constance was already making her way to the kitchen. Their neighbor could be extremely charming one minute and devilishly annoying the next.

"Will you please make me a cup of coffee," she asked. "No sugar. Please, heat up the milk as well. Drinking lukewarm coffee is not something I enjoy." Violet started to understand why it was so hard to get rid of Constance. She left no space for interpretation nor did she ever grant her acquaintances with the privilege of saying "no". Actually, Violet hadn't seen her since the last time she visited. Constance left after a short conversation with Ben, not to be seen again for a week to come. To be quite honest, Violet never even noticed her around the garden.

"So, Mrs. Langdon, what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?" Violet had to try her best not to chuckle. Constance's manner of speaking was something she enjoyed making fun of. Older woman did not notice though or she simply pretended not to.

"Oh, Violet, I just came here to spend some time with my neighbors. We haven't had a new family here in almost ten years. The house was empty. Can not blame me for trying to befriend you, can you?" Violet didn't trust a word coming out of Constance's mouth. That woman wanted something from her family. She put a cup of coffee in front of Mrs. Langdon and one in front of herself. Constance took a sip and looked at Violet with a smile.

"How is Westfield? It did not disappoint you, did it?" She hated the way in which this woman was asking questions, again, no chance for sincere answer.

"It's alright. I quite enjoy the classes I have. American lit is cool." Constance nodded her head in agreement but she looked as if she did not care for an answer.

"My son finished Westfield as well. Honor student. Made his mother very proud". Now, that was something which caught Violet's attention. She pushed the subject.

"Really? You have a son? I have never seen any children around here…or teenagers for that matter." She played stupid. She has heard enough from Constance herself about woman's family life.

"Why, yes. I have a son. A daughter too, Addie. You see, Tate is not exactly a teenager anymore but he sure acts like it sometimes." Violet waited for her to continue. "Always have to clean his mess. Anyway, he visits occasionally. Does not live far away. He has landed a job as a lecturer recently, so you can see why he does not have much time left for his mother" That's not what Violet expected. Tate, even if she saw him for a mere minute or two, looked nothing like a university professor.

"Lecturer? He really must be quite smart then." She wanted to tackle Constance's ego to get some more information. The woman looked at her with a smug smile.

"He is. English literature is what he teaches. It has always been his favorite. I wished that he would became an actor or something similarly lucrative. Face like his could kill but that is life for you." Violet didn't say anything. She was deep in her own thoughts. So the guy was not only good-looking, he actually had brains too. Impressive considering L.A. reality.

"Well, if that makes him happy then good for him". Warm smile disappeared from Constance's face.

"You do not understand, Violet. I am happy for him too, What kind of mother do you think I am? But he was Westfield's track-running star. Always surrounded by a group of friends. A beautiful girl on his arm. He could have had it all. The way women look at him, if he had ever made it to the silver screen, he would have been famous over-night. If not for that silly bitch that ruined everything".

"Here it comes again", Violet thought. Constance and her psychotic rambling.

"Well, that's not for me to judge, Mrs. Langdon. I have never even seen him before."

Constance gave her a patronizing look.

"Did you not, Violet?" she asked coldly and put her cup down. "I have to go. Have things to attend this afternoon," then she looked at the plate she brought with her "Please, have a cupcake. I made them for you." She gave Violet a warm smile. "I will see myself out." With that, she was gone. Violet took one of pre-made cigarettes from her pocket. Gray smoke started to fill the kitchen as she was wondering how Constance can go from here-for-you-friendly-neighbor to i-hate-you-you-little-slut under one minute. How did she even know that Violet had seen Tate that night? His car was never around Langdon's house. She had never noticed him go in or Constance go out. Sure, he could call her, but what would he say, "Hey mom, that little girl from Murder House stared at me intensively for full minute as I was leaving last week"? The thought actually made her laugh. She extinguished her cigarette and started cleaning after Constance's visit.

* * *

On Monday Violet was starting her first job. She landed the position at the vinyl store just as she had planned. This and the fact that she has recently got her truck made her excited. She hasn't cut in quite some time too. Maybe it was the fact that all her plans slowly started to unfold. After she cleaned the dishes, she made her way upstairs and called her father, who was supposedly on a business trip to Boston. She didn't really care and she didn't want to spend time chatting with him about nothing at all but she had to make sure that he wouldn't call checking on her later in the evening. Violet planned to go out. She knew that no regular bar in the area would allow someone her age to enter but she was smart enough to research what shady places didn't care about the age of their clients. And she knew just the right person to ask. Although her and Trevor didn't talk, except for quick greetings while passing each other, she had made a point of cornering him once he wasn't surrounded by his group of friends. Two hand-rolled cigarettes later she knew what places were a go-to on the map of her district. Trevor had even mentioned "bumping" into her if she picked his favorite spot. She decided to wait for her mother to come home from her shopping-spree before breaking the news. Or maybe more accurately – lying.

The chance arised during the dinner they were eating comfortably in front of the TV.

"I am going out tonight," she started "I know. I am only 16. It is a new place. But I made a friend at school and she invited me out and I am dying to leave this castle of a house." Violet wondered how Constance's method would work on her mother. Vivien opened her mouth to speak twice but each time no words came out.

"Mom, you wanted me to make friends, didn't you? You were telling me that the move wouldn't be so bad. Well, I have a chance to make friends and I have a chance to make it good. And dad's not here…" Vivien interrupted her.

"Yes, Violet, okay. Okay. I get it. It would be stupid of me to risk you sneaking out. I'd much rather you go somewhere with my approval. You can go out with your friend. But I need you to promise me that you will not turn your phone off. And that you will not be drinking! And that…". Violet hugged her mother for the first time in months. And for the first time in months it was sincere.

* * *

Violet decided that she has to dress somehow more maturely. Even if the bar staff was not to check her ID, no-one in their sane mind would serve alcohol to an obvious high-schooler. She settled for a knee-length bottle-green dress that her mother had forced on her sometime in the past. It was not revealing in the slightest, with no cleavage or thighs showing, but she still felt naked. Her bony arms and collarbones were clearly visible. If the dress was any tighter people would see her ribs as well. She decided to put some cardigan on to make her feel more like herself. Even if her mother bought her some clothes that Violet would (almost) never wear, she could never force her to try-on a pair of nice shoes. Not that she cared. Her favorite worn-out Converse would be her first pick anyway. She skipped make-up entirely. Mostly because she did not own any but even more so because she was not going to cake-up her face for one night out. She decided to put her hair in a high ponytail. Violet figured that thin people usually look older because of the sharp features so it would be for the best if she didn't hide her face behind a curtain of straight, dirty blond hair. She said her goodbyes and made her way to the car. She has already decided that she would pick a place furthest away from the house. She didn't want to risk meeting any neighbors. Violet doubted that Stepford Wives enjoyed smoke-filled, crowded, and dirty bars but better safe than sorry. 30 minutes later she was driving into a poorly-lit but full parking lot. The name of the bar was not clearly visible from where she parked, but she figured out that she probably had to look for drunk teenagers and shady types. She was not mistaken. The only place surrounded by the circle of people was a ruined building with broken windows and graffiti all over its walls.

"Yup, that's it," she thought to herself. The only way in was to go down slippery stairs. So she did. The place was heavy from cigarette smoke. Her eyes started tearing up before she made it to the bar. The music was playing loud, but not loud enough to not hear one's own thoughts. The floor was filled with people. Tables were standing by the walls with people sitting on what seemed to be garden chairs. This place was not fancy, that's for sure. She walked to one of many free stools right by the counter. She knew that she wanted to get dizzy but not drunk. After all she had to get back home in one piece. The barman was a middle-age man with bald head and stomach showing but otherwise quite pleasant looking.

"What can I get ya?" he asked with a strong foreign accent. Violet had to make-up her mind quickly. She did not want to look as if she was doing something sketchy.

"Vodka. With coke, please," she answered giving the man her best smile. He chuckled.

"Comin' right at ya." Violet relaxed. The thing she came here for was given to her easily. The barman provided her with a glass and she quickly paid for her drink. She took a sip. Alcohol was burning her tongue. She had tried vodka before, hell, she had drunk it straight from the bottle, but she wasn't used to sipping on a drink and what's more – pretending to enjoy it.

"Since when are high-school kids drinkin' hard alcohol," barman asked, looking at her with amusement in her eyes. So her attire didn't work out. She decided to play it cool.

"Since when is vodka sold to high-schoolers?" The man laughed. The little one was way more enjoyable than any of those conceited kids.

"Darlin', I don't give a shit about it being illegal," he answered. "If you haven't noticed yet, you are in the devil's asshole. This place is makin' money because of spoiled high-schoolers lookin' for a place to spend their daddies' cash." Violet laughed sincerely. "My children ain't gonna feed themselves. Pigs can check this place anytime they want. If I see someone sketchy, I am gone," he continued with a smile. Violet was halfway through her drink already, she enjoyed listening to the barman too much. She had to stop herself from downing the whole glass. Instead she took her phone out and texted Vivien as to avoid worried calls later into the night. Before she could finish the barman was leaning in to her

"Now listen carefully. I ain't your daddy but there's a man there, in the corner," Violet was about to look around when he almost shouted at her not to turn her head. "He is starin' at ya. He fished ya' out of the crowd. If he comes here and tries to sweet-talk ya' don't fall for it. Don't leave with him." Her stomach turned. Scarcely had she made herself comfortable she had to be extremely vary of her surroundings. She started sipping on her drink again, careful not to look around. That's when she felt it. Someone was staring at her intensively. She could not bear the pressure. Against her better judgment she slowly turned her face.


	4. Chapter 3

**Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self-harm. The triggering content is under the cut.**

* * *

Their eyes met and Violet's heart stopped. Staring at her was no-one else but Tate. Playful smile was gracing his lips but he didn't move, didn't nod his head even. It looked as if he didn't even care to greet her properly. Violet exhaled deeply and looked at her hands. And then she laughed. Sincere, loud laugh was leaving her mouth.

"Jackass," she thought. The barman was staring at her, unsure of what to think.

"That's my neighbor's son, Tate. I know him," said Violet. The information did not put the man on ease.

"He could be the Queen of England for all I care, what I said still stands." Violet looked at his face and then at her own hands. She decided to roll a cigarette. Smile was playing on her lips.

"Pour me another one, will ya'," she asked the barman playfully. He chuckled and poured her a drink.

"That will be 10$…"

"Violet. Name's Violet." He smiled.

"That will be 10$, Violet. Name's Tom." She returned the smile and started sipping on her drink. She actually enjoyed herself. Downing it down she felt like dancing. Violet hardly ever danced but that's vodka for you. She waved at Tom and made her way onto the floor. Pleasant dizziness caught her head as she started to move with the crowd. No familiar faces around, no sign of Tate.

Violet enjoyed the R&B beats playing. Not her usual cup of tea but for a moment she didn't care. That's when two strong hands were placed on her waist. She stiffened instantly.

"I didn't come all the way down here to be touched by some ugly, drunk, sweaty teenager," anger started boiling inside of her. Violet turned around to tell someone off and she was met with a pair of piercing brown eyes. Tate. Violet was mesmerized. Finally she had a chance to look at him up close. Constance was right. That face could kill. He looked even better tonight than when she had seen him last time. Her dizzied state didn't help with the staring. She was studying his face until the grip on her waist tightened. That's when the situation hit her. He was a good few years her senior, preying on her all right. He did not approach her when she was seated by the bar, did not introduce himself properly. He waited for her to drink some and then decided to just grab her at the dance-floor. She sobered instantly.

"What do you think you are doing," Violet asked angrily grabbing his hands and putting them off her body. He looked genuinely hurt. "Is this guy serious?"

"I thought that's what people do at the dance-floor, you know… dance with each other," he answered, his eyes not leaving her face. The nerve of this guy.

"Is grabbing teenage girls what people do as well," she barked. Tate's face changed instantly. His eyes lightened with flickers of true anger.

"Careful with the accusations," he hissed through clenched teeth. Violet was instantly drown to the fire. She wanted to get burnt.

"What, didn't your mother tell you that I am still in high-school?" Her smirk only maddened him. The smile was wiped-off from her face as soon as he tightened one of his hands around her neck. He lowered his mouth to her ear. For a moment she was certain that he would lick her lobe.

"Do you want to play with fire or do you want to burn?" Violet shivered. The way he threatened her sounded almost erotically. His deep voice was caressing her. He loosened his grip and she was once again met with his brown eyes. His face smoothened. Playful smile was gracing his lips yet again. She noticed the dimples he had when smiling. She scalded herself internally. Tate could go from pleasant to terrifying in seconds just like his mother.

"Excuse me," she said, holding onto her bag and quickly walking away. She nearly ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a loud bang. Dropping her bag on the floor she sat down on the toilet, face in her hands. Violet was shaking. She didn't know what to think. He was much older, maybe even by a decade and, clearly, he didn't even care to get to know her. Hell, he didn't care to introduce himself! Not that Violet didn't find him alluring, she did and that was the part of the problem. If she was a little bit older, if she had been close to any man at all before, everything would be different.

"But that's not the reality," she spoke to herself quietly. Tate was a stranger preying on her. She had to put herself together. Standing up and walking by the mirror she saw a scared, little girl, her eyes big from fear.

"Okay. Calm down," she said to herself. "He probably just wanted to fuck. Shoot. 20-something girls marry disgusting, old, guys. I may be underage, but I am not a child anymore. Maybe he thought that I am a senior." Her coping mechanism was to pretend that his intentions weren't sinister at all. She would walk back there with her head up, say goodbye to Tom and leave. Violet opened the door and walked out. He-devil was nowhere in sight. She made her way to the bar. Tom looked clearly relieved that the young girl is still here.

"Violet! Where were ya'? I ain't gonna lie, I was gettin' a bit worried." She gave him her warmest smile.

"It's cool. I bumped into some high-school friends. They are waiting for me outside, I just came here to say goodbye." Tom nodded his head and looked around. Not spotting Tate made him relax.

"Hope I'll see you again, Violet. You are a funny little thing."

"You will Tom, I love the place…and cheap drinks." With that she left. Making her way up the stairs she scanned the surroundings.

"No Tate in sight, good." Violet started to walk at a quick pace. She made it to car and started looking for her keys.

"Jesus, where did I even put…" Loud whistle interrupted her. Hair stood on her back. She slowly turned around to see Tate standing about fifty meters away, leaning on his Mustang's door. As soon as their eyes met he grinned at her. Violet wasn't going to give him something to laugh at. She flipped him off and got into the car then started the engine without looking in the back mirror and drove off, instantly breaking the speed limit. She turned the music loud as to silence annoying thoughts. Slowly, her muscles began to relax. Violet wasn't going to turn her head back. If he was following her so be it, she didn't give a flying fuck. Making her way up the street she thought she had it together. She parked by her house and decided to stay in the car for a little while. The reason was her gut feeling. She opened the window slightly and grabbed a cigarette. Heavy smoke slowly filled the inside of the vehicle. Violet exhaled deeply. That's when she heard a car rolling slowly on the street. She cautiously looked in the back mirror. Black Mustang. Violet should feel terrified but instead she was boiling with rage. She extinguished her cigarette and jumped of the car just as Tate was parking in front of his mother's house. He heard her angry footsteps before he fully opened the door.

"Are you following me," she spitted angrily. Tate exited his car slowly. He closed the door and looked at her. His mouth formed in a smirk again.

"My mother lives here." Violet opened her mouth without thinking.

"She does but somehow I haven't seen you around lately." She quickly realized that her words could be misunderstood. It sounded as she had been observing Constance's house in hope of seeing Tate again. Truth be told she had but he didn't need to know that. His smile was now a full-on grin.

"Are you following me?" Violet was dumbfounded. Tate was good at playing games. She decided to change the subject as to avoid any more embarrassment.

"And you are visiting Constance at 2 A.M.?" Tate laughed.

"She has insomnia. Sometimes she calls me to come visit her late at night so she doesn't feel lonely."

"Doesn't she have Addie to keep her company?" His face darkened. Violet couldn't keep up with his moods.

"Is that all? Cause I feel like I am wasting my time answering your silly questions." Now she felt stupid for ever approaching him. He was right. His whereabouts were none of her business. She scalded herself internally for being so stupid. Violet overreacted and now she was met with hostility, a feeling way too familiar. She looked at him one more time and then slowly started walking toward her house.

"I will see you around, Violet," Tate shouted as she was opening the door.

* * *

Violet made it into her room on one breath. She instantly took off her clothes and let her hair loose. She searched for the razor hid in her mattress and walked straight to the bathroom. Violet opened the tap and as the bath was filling she looked at herself in the mirror.

It made her remember why she hated her guts so much. She could lie to herself all she wanted. She could tell herself that she is better and that everything looks promising, but that simply wasn't true. Her mind was full of self-disgust. Violet sat in the bath and started playing with the razor, memories of the night flooding her mind. For the first time in forever she felt so free and her sick mind had to ruin it. Her face flushed deep red when she thought of the verbal abuse toward Tate. How could she be so fucking stupid? That guy had no bad intentions at all. She relied on Tom, a complete stranger, and lashed-out. How could Tate had even known her real age? He had simply wanted to have some fun, to dance, maybe something more but what's wrong with that? And she had overreacted.

"Anytime I let myself vocalize my feelings I look like an idiot" She should have stayed quiet. Metal of the razor was burning her hand. Violet slowly pressed it against her arm. She enjoyed the pressure. She knew that she could easily slice her skin open.

"No. That would be too obvious," Violet thought so she slid it down slowly without cutting too deep. Blood started bubbling on the shallow wound. Not enough. She moved the razor to her thigh.

"Now, that's good." No one would see that part of her body. She put a little more pressure and observed thin streamlets of blood going down her leg.

"Enough with the cutting." She knew that hot water would make bleeding worse and that was what Violet enjoyed the most. She tossed the razor on the floor. She instantly felt better.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I am not a psychiatrist/therapist or anyone in the field therefore any advice given by Ben is not, by any means, a professional advice for my readers. If you feel that you may be suffering from a disorder/mental illness, please, contact a doctor.**

 **Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self-harm. Don't read if easily triggered.**

* * *

Vivien knocked softly on Violet's door.

"Vi? Are you there?" Violet has been avoiding everyone since she came back from her nigh-out day ago. Vivien knocked on the door again and not hearing any response, decided to enter.

Violet was lying down, hair in her face, feet tangled in the sheets. The window was open but not wide enough to get rid of asphyxiating smell of cigarettes.

"Vi, wake up," Vivien started shaking her delicately. "Wake up, it's almost 11."

Violet opened her eyes and looked at her mother dazedly.

"What's up?" she asked turning in the sheets. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened. I just thought that it is high time you woke up," said Vivien and then unsure whether she should even vocalize her worries, added "You haven't left the room since yesterday's afternoon." Violet was studying her face. Indeed, Vivien looked worried.

"Is it a crime? There's nothing to do around here, all's left for me is to rot in my room."

Vivien sighed with relief, if Violet was still giving her smart remarks, all was good.

"Dad's back. He caught an early flight." Violet didn't look interested. "He starts his practice today."

"Cool," said Violet. She stretched her back and stepped out of the bed to fully open the window. She didn't feel like talking with Vivien. In some way she appreciated her mother's instincts but since her encounter with Tate she felt like being left alone.

"I will meet you downstairs in a minute." That was a sign for Vivien to leave.

"I made pancakes. Blueberry ones, your favorite," she said with a small smile and walked out.

Violet sat at the window and lit her cigarette. She felt so strange. She had decided to ignore all of her thoughts about Tate and entirety of that night in general. What were the odds of them being so close again? He would come visit his mother sometimes, but that's all. They did not exist in the same circles. Actually, Violet didn't exist in any social circle at all. Their encounter in that bar was completely random. He was older, independent, with a stable job. She was a high-schooler living with her parents. Tate was handsome, she was average at best.

"Wait, what," she said out loud. She was doing it again. Thoughts of Tate were flooding her mind. "Stop being so stupid," she scolded herself internally. Yes, he was hot, whatever. There was also something extremely alluring about him. Maybe it was the way in which he carried himself. Maybe the fact that his persona was surrounded by understatements…"Stop!" Violet took the last smoke and decided to dress-up. Her musings were embarrassing, the only way to stop them was to keep herself occupied.

* * *

"Here's my little girl," said Ben as Violet walked to the kitchen. "I haven't seen you in ages. What's good?" He was sitting over coffee and breakfast, big smile on his face. She rolled her eyes. Her father was unbearable with his suddenly positive approach to everything and everyone. Violet knew that Ben was trying so hard because of the crippling guilt but she didn't give a fuck. She detested everything her father had become.

"Nothing's good. I am starving." She sat down and grabbed one of the pancakes from the plate.

"Not keen on using a fork?" he tried to joke. Violet ignored him.

"Where's mom?" she really didn't want to be stuck alone with Ben.

"In the garden. Weather is great, you should go out sometimes." She was chewing on her food slowly.

"Constance's son is coming over today." Violet nearly choked. Why would Tate ever visit them? She had to think of the way to get more information without making Ben suspicious. Play it dumb Violet, play it dumb.

"She has a son?"

"She does. Actually, he is going to be one of my patients." Cold sweat covered her body. She swallowed food slowly. Great. Out of all the shrinks, Tate had to pick her father. She made a fool of herself in front of him and now she will be seeing his face at least once a week.

"Yeah? Interesting." Ben took a sip of his coffee, put the cup down and cleared his throat.

"Violet, we need to make some things clear," he started. "I have never had at-home practice. You know that I sometimes work with unstable people. I need you not to interact with any of my patients. They are not our guests. They are here to seek help from me." Violet nodded her head.

"No interaction with any of your patients, got it." Too bad she has already interacted with one of them too much.

"Good girl," said Ben, smiling at her warmly.

She stood up slowly and walked out, giving Ben a fake little smile.

"What do I do," was her only thought. Tate definitely had some effect on her. As of late, effect to make her lash out. But she couldn't deny that she was somehow drown to him. Interested in him even. Not romantically or anything but she had that strange urge to seek him out. She made her way upstairs and threw herself on the bed. Her eyes focused on the ceiling above.

"What do I do?" Should she ignore him? Should she apologize? Violet was way too proud for that. Sometimes her immaturity and inexperience took the best of her. She rolled on her stomach and lit a cigarette, plan already forming in her head. If he wants to mess with her, she will play along. Violet grinned, slowly inhaling the burning smoke.

* * *

Tate has been in Ben's office for 30 minutes already when Violet made her way downstairs. She looked around in search for Vivien but her mother was nowhere to be found. Her steps quiet, she could hear the muffled sounds of their conversation. Violet's curiosity had to be tamed. She stood just by the door, listening.

"Could you elaborate," Ben's voice was calm.

"There was no connection, you know? He was just sitting there, nodding his head. Then he prescribed me some pills, anti-depressants, that's what he said. Never came around to taking them though." Tate had to be talking about his last doctor. Violet wanted to know more.

"Why did you not take the pills, Tate?"

"I have tried some stuff before. Pills, I mean. They made me think about bad things. So last time I didn't even bother."

"What were those thoughts about?"

"Blood."

"Could you elaborate, please?"

"I just had those constant visions. Visions of hurting myself. Visions of hurting others. Drowning in blood. Couldn't sleep. Each time I put my head on a pillow, boom! Blood. Swimming in blood." Tate didn't sound like himself. Not that she knew him well, or at all if she was to be honest with herself, but his pattern of speech seemed off to Violet.

"Well, that's how anti-depressants work. You have to be under constant supervision of your doctor for the first two to three weeks. After that it should get better. If not, they should try to treat you with something else. Have you ever told him about the visions?"

There was silence followed by Ben's footsteps. Violet's heart sank. She hid behind the nearest corner. There was a little click followed by muffled sounds again. Ben must have realized that the door weren't closed fully. She waited a an additional minute and made her way back.

"I did." Tate's voice was quiet. She had to focus to make out his words.

"Why did you do that?"

"She knows a lot about me. Know more than I would like." Who was he talking about?

"That's why she pushed you? Has she ever threatened you?" Were they talking about Constance?

She could hear Tate's laugh. It was evil. It chilled her to the bone.

"Try living with a cocksucker for half your life and you will know." Violet wasn't sure if she wanted to hear about Tate's darkest thoughts and deepest secrets. In her head, she was organizing the information she has just collected. He had been treated before. Many times… and apparently none of that worked out. His relations with Constance weren't as good as he made them out to be.

"Cocksucker"? What sane person calls their mother that in a casual manner? But maybe Tate wasn't sane at all. If she was older, if she knew more about life, all of those new information would make her stomach turn. But they didn't. Violet felt somehow closer to him now. At last someone who has been suffering from the very same illness. Someone on whom pills didn't work. Just like her. She stepped back, unsure on how she really feels, and decided to go outside and catch some sun. Violet sat down on a low wall, parting between bushes and their back entrance. It was never used, Ben opened the door once as he was inspecting the house for the first time. She would sometimes go there and listen to music or read, because of the location no-one would ever bother her. She wasn't yet used to California's heat but she liked the burning feeling sun left on her bare skin. She removed her cardigan and took one cigarette out of her skirt's pocket. She liked the smell of tobacco mixed with the one of growing flowers. Making herself comfortable, Violet dangled one of her legs down the wall and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply. Her cigarette was almost finished when she heard the steps.

"I used to like this place too," Tate voice was coming from her left. She opened her eyes to see him standing close by, hands in his pockets, warm smile on his mouth.

"What are you doing here?" Her stomach tightened. She didn't know if it was because she wanted to see him or because she was afraid of him. Tate casually walked to her and sat on the wall. His legs were long enough to touch the ground.

"I took a walk around the property," he said "haven't had a chance in quite a while." Violet didn't say anything. She was looking at how his hair appeared gold in the sun. "I used to live here, you know? We moved when I was like ten." Violet knew that already, she remembered the conversation Constance had with her mother.

"Did you move across the street?" Tate nodded his head.

"My mother was not capable of supporting such a huge mansion on her own. She had to settle for something smaller. Still, she wanted to look at her old home every day." Violet felt as if Tate talked about whatever just to keep the conversation going. She wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"So, seeing a shrink, huh?" He was staring at his feet. She bended to see him better.

"Did you listen?" he mumbled finally. Violet didn't know what to say. Did they realize that someone was outside the door? "Don't worry, I will not tell your dad if you did," he added turning towards her. Was he playing with her again?

"No. I didn't. I was here the entire time." Their eyes finally met. Tate smirked. The nerve of this guy. She was studying him yet again, veins on his neck, strong figure, muscled arms. Arms. Her stomach turned. She didn't cover her arms. Violet was about to reach for her cardigan when Tate stopped her. He had her wrists between his hands. She felt the warmth spreading throughout her body.

"I have those too," he said, letting go of her and rolling his sleeve. Indeed, his arm was covered in white scars, barely visible unless you knew what to look for. "I stopped. This shit is bad. Don't hurt yourself." His voice was full of care. Where was that jackass of a guy she had been faced with barely a day ago? She knew that she should be vary, his moods were unpredictable. But she still remembered how his fingers caressed the delicate skin on her wrist.

"Violet," he started "I am so sorry for what happened the other night. I swear I didn't know that you were so young. If I had known I would have never, never touched you like that." He sounded genuine but if so, why did she feel disappointed? No. She had to be tough. No hard feelings.

"How old are you anyway?" Tate looked hesitant for a moment.

"25." Almost a decade older. She had predicted that he would be around that age. Not that it bothered her, actually, she was amazed with her indifference. They both sat in silence. She closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. Violet heard Tate stand up.

"I've got to go. My mother hates waiting." She nodded her head, her eyes still closed. He was still standing there, she felt his presence. Finally, he started to walk away, his steps echoing against the walls of the house. Violet opened her eyes to spot him crossing the lawn. She watched him leave the property. She stood up and slowly made her way into the house.


	6. Chapter 5

**Note: I have introduced a character that does not appear in Murder House. I was thinking of using Chad but I've decided that if I were to put him in those scenes we would all "see" a grown-up man acting as a teenager therefore he wouldn't fit in. I hope you don't mind.**

 **Warning: this chapter contains slurs.**

* * *

It's been almost a week since Violet last saw Tate. Thoughts of him were flooding her mind. Deep inside she knew that her deliberations were pointless. He made it clear that the whole situation had been a mistake. No matter the obvious, she couldn't help herself. Maybe rules of attraction simply worked that way? Violet could lie to herself but deep down she knew - she felt attracted to him. Sure, he was a handsome guy, no surprise here. She bet her ass that every woman would feel the same after meeting Tate. At the same time it was clear to her that his looks was only one of the factors. There was much more to him. His secretive persona was alluring to her. Each time they were together she felt it heavy in the air, the weight of the unsaid. As for someone with the obvious weakness for the forbidden, his age also played the role. Violet was young, she knew that she could have her own secret admiration for Tate. But she was also pragmatic, probably one of the effects of her sheltered personality. She would never play out on her desires, she didn't want to taste the bitterness of refusal. Most of all, she has never imagined herself being truly close to someone, whether it be emotionally or physically. Not that it mattered anyway. Violet knew that in time she would move on, forget about her teenage crush. Didn't we all have an inappropriate infatuation at one point in our life?

So she carried on with her normal life. Home, school, work. Repeat. Violet actually enjoyed the steady pace of her day to day being. Working at a vinyl shop provided her with a very needed cash, spending day after day in the same place gave her a sense of stability. Truth be told, she loved the smell of that little shop. She loved browsing through countless albums crowded on high shelves. Even the contact with customers wasn't such a pain in the ass as she had imagined. She liked to be surrounded by like-minded people. As for school, it was just that. School. Mindless bitches, stoners, jocks, grey mass. Violet refrained from them all. She was spending each lunch-break away from the madding crowd, sitting by the old tree in the back of the school's yard. It was Friday when Trevor approached her.

"Hey stranger!" he was coming her way with a playful smile on his lips.

"What's good?" Trevor sat down and took a cigarette out of his backpack.

"Not much. The usual stuff, football, girls, you know the drill," he smirked, his perfect white teeth showing. She and Trevor wouldn't spend much time together at all but Violet liked his laid-back, no-bullshit approach to things. He lit his cigarette.

"Me and some of my friends are making a bonfire on the beach tonight. You should come." Violet wasn't expecting to get an invitation to some social gathering with Westfield's "most popular" kids. She wasn't outgoing but it didn't mean that she wouldn't join the fun if given the chance.

"Sure, sounds good. I finish work at 9, tell me where and I'll try to make it." Trevor was thinking about something, his eyes focused on her face.

"Actually, I was hoping that I could pick you up and we would go together," he said "If that's okay with you." His cheeks were blushing. She felt flattered that he had proposed that but she couldn't help herself but play with him a little bit more.

"I have a car." He looked puzzled at first but soon a smile appeared on his face.

"No offense but I wouldn't call that old can of yours a car. Take a ride in the real beast." She laughed, Trevor was a good companion.

"If you say so," said Violet grinning at him. They sat in silence, sun shining on their faces, warm wind playing with their hair.

* * *

She was changing in the staff room when her phone rang. Ben. Shoot, she knew that her mother wouldn't talk sense into him.

"Hello?"

"Violet, I just came home. Your mother told me that you are going out tonight."

"She told you the truth."

"With whom if I may ask?"

"With friends. Friends from school."

"I don't like it one bit, Vi. You are sixteen, you think it is safe to go god-knows-where with people you barely know?" She was getting annoyed.

"I have been out with some of them before, came home in one piece. Don't you trust mom?" She had to play on his feelings, Vivien was trustworthy. He wasn't. Short silence followed her statement.

"I am sorry, baby. It's just the place is still new to us, I don't know them or their parents. It was easier in Boston." Make him feel guilty.

"We wouldn't have to leave Boston if it wasn't for you." Ben sighed.

"Make sure you step by and let us know when you are home." He hung up. Jesus, her father was easily manipulated. Violet wondered how had he even got a job in the psychiatric field. His patients would outsmart him at every step. She brushed her hair and checked if she had all of her belongings on her. Saying goodbyes to her co-worker she spotted Trevor leaning by his car. He gave her a smile and waved. She stepped out of the shop to a tight hug from him. If he was her type her heart would flutter right then. But he wasn't. She liked Trevor but in a friendly, "let's joke about anything" way. They got into the car and drove off, dust falling behind the car. The music was playing quietly. Violet was looking out the window, colorful buildings and palms, people walking in groups and laughing.

"Enjoying L.A.," Trevor asked, his eyes focused on the road.

"Kinda. It is not as bad here as I thought it would be." She turned her face to him.

"As born and raised resident I can assure you that it is the best place on earth." Violet chuckled. She liked his enthusiasm, so different from everything she had been surrounded by.

"By the way, the party had already started. There are some people outside of our school but they are cool."

"Who says what's cool and what's not," she asked, smile playing on her lips. Trevor laughed.

"I do. I say what's cool and what's not and you better believe me." Violet leaned against her seat, she could see the ocean in the distance. Trevor turned the music up and started singing along to some silly pop song. Violet couldn't contain her laughter. Slowly they made their way up to the beach.

"I have to take some stuff out of the trunk," he said exiting the car. She nodded her head and focused on the view in front of her. Violet wasn't a huge nature lover but she had never seen the Pacific before. It was mesmerizing.

"Let's go" Trevor was carrying a box full of beers. She followed him to the quite big group of people sitting around the fire, talking loudly, and moving rhythmically to the rap music playing. One of the guys standing just by the barrel full of beer noticed Trevor and shouted, a loud greeting that caught attention of all the others. Suddenly everyone was waving and asking them to join the party. Trevor made his way into the group and put the beers down. He greeted at least 20 every people and Violet was just behind, repeating her name over and over again. She didn't feel good in a crowd but she knew that soon they would settle and get something to drink.

"Trevor!" some guy in loose trousers and a hoodie patted her partner on the back. "Sup man?" then he looked at Violet "Damn, who's the lady?" Violet smirked. Trevor put a hand on her back and leaned to whisper in her ear.

"See that guy over there, the tall blonde? That's Jamie. He's loud but smartest of them all. Sit with him, I'll join you in a minute." Violet's eyes focused on a guy sitting by the two heavily tanned girls with aggressively platinum-blond her. He was a nice sight, sharp jaw-line, fair hair, blue eyes, he would definitely be a cheerleader's boyfriend if not for the obvious fact that Jamie was gay. His attire consisted of grey track-suit pants and a white T-shirt, Vans on his feet, and a huge Louis Vuitton bag placed strategically on his knees. Violet chuckled. He didn't seem to give a fuck, she liked that. Approaching him she overheard part of the conversation he was having with his neighbor.

"Honey, no. Gaga's performance at VMA's was the best thing that has happened since Madonna got saggy tits and couldn't flash it at her fans." She sat by him. Jamie's face turned in her direction.

"I haven't met you before, have I?" She shook her head.

"Jamie," he said "but you can refer to me as an 'obnoxious faggot' just like about everyone in here". He gave her a wide smile. Violet laughed.

"Violet, call me Violet cause no-one in here knows how to call me since they haven't seen me before." Jamie flashed his pearly white teeth at her.

"Something to drink?" Violent didn't need to be asked twice. He took a dive into huge bag of his and passed her a bottle of what seemed to be a champagne.

"That's not Don Perignone but then again, we are not sipping drinks in Ritz's lounge." She took a sip, bubbles tackling her tongue. Violet looked around and spotted Trevor talking with one of the jocks she recognized from school. She took another sip and gave it back to Jamie.

He was just putting Marlboro Light in his mouth but took champagne from her hands and smiled. Violet decided to roll a cigarette. She was about to lit it when Trevor put a hand on her arm.

"I am sorry, those people simply won't let me go." He handed her a beer and sat down. Jamie acknowledged his existence with a nod of the head, he was too busy sipping from his bottle, smoking, and talking loudly to his friends. She and Trevor exchanged smiles and started drinking steadily from their cans. Cool breeze from the ocean was caressing their backs. They talked about everything and nothing, drinking beers and smoking. Trevor wasn't the smartest person she has come in contact with but he was pleasant, easy, not secretive at all. She felt at ease, her head dizzy with the alcohol. Trevor stood up saying that he has "business" to attend and left her with Jamie once again. Violet was listening to the conversation he was having with the two girls.

"I am literally afraid to even go out anymore," one of them said.

"Seriously, my dad said that he will lock me up in my room if he has to. Prick," another added. Jamie was waving his cigarette and leaning in to them.

"I've heard that he goes after pretty girls, neither of you has to worry," he said and Violet chuckled. He turned to her and winked.

"What are you even talking about," she asked. Jamie made big eyes.

"Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?" Violet was tipsy.

"Girl from our school was murdered two days ago." She was all ears. Violet liked the creepy.

"What happened," she asked. Jamie moved closer and put a cigarette in her mouth. He lit it and took a sip of his champagne.

"I don't know if you have been living under the rock for past month but whatever," he started "Someone is targeting young girls from the area. They go out and never come back. Two days later you turn on the TV and boom! another one found dead." He took another sip. "They are all found somewhere around the town, strangled." Violet took champagne from his hands and poured herself some. Jamie continued, "They were all normal girls. Pretty enough, but not popular. I have heard they go to downtown clubs or bars and that's where he targets them."

"How many of them," she asked.

"I don't know. 5, maybe 6. Two from my school. One from yours. Some other random girls." Violet felt uneasy. She was one of the girls that Jamie was talking about. She pushed him further.

"Is there anything else to it? Suspects?" He rolled his eyes.

"The only thing I know is that what you get for being a hoe." His comment eased the atmosphere. Violet laughed. "But seriously," he followed "visiting downtown L.A. on girl's own is not a smart move anyway." She nodded her head. Violet was so invested in conversation with Jamie that only then did she realize that Trevor was not back. She looked around and there he was, standing by the beer barrel, talking to some pretty girl. Violet felt a string of jealousy, anger bubbling inside of her. Alcohol completely changed her perception of things. She was staring at him intensively up to the point when he turned around. Trevor's eyes focused on her face, a warm smile gracing his lips. She did not move. He looked puzzled and started making his way back to her, finally standing right in front of Violet.

"What's up," he asked.

"Drive me home," was her only answer.


	7. Chapter 6

**Hi! Here's another chapter. I've already written the next one as well so be sure to stop by on Saturday. :-)**

 **Warning: if you don't feel comfortable with agression and dominance it would be best to skip this one.**

 **I would love to see some reviews! Do you like the story so far? Where do you see the plot going? Remember that constructive criticism is very helpful to all aspiring writers.**

* * *

Violet was mad. One minute she was chatting with Jamie and having a good time, the other she wanted to punch Trevor in the face. Maybe it was the fact that she had mixed alcohols or maybe it was something else. She didn't know. Sitting quietly in his car with closed eyes, Violet was slowly calming down. Trevor was keeping his sight on the road. He was too afraid to speak although his teenage-boy mind suggested that it was a good sign, she was jealous about some other girl. They were driving slowly, street-lights flickering as they were passing them on their way back. At last, they made it on her street, all houses dark except for one, Constance's. Black Mustang parked right in front of it. Suddenly all the feelings came flooding back. Trevor parked on the street, the engine still running. Violet slowly made it out of the 's when she saw him, standing in the door, dressed in black T-shirt and faded jeans. Her drunken her state was telling her to do something, it was telling her to get his attention. She walked to the Trevor's door and knocked on the glass for him to open the window. Just as he did, she slowly leaned inside and placed a tender kiss on his temple. Trevor was surprised, his face blushing deep red. She slowly backed up and saw Tate staring at her intensively, his eyes piercing her head. That's when Trevor put his arm outside the window and caught her hand. She reacted to the gesture with a smile.

"Thanks for the good time," she said.

"I will see you at school, Violet". He let go of her and put his hands on the steering wheel. Backing up he waved at Violet, her eyes following his car till it disappeared in the night. As she was standing alone in front of her house she suddenly didn't want to be faced with Tate. She also didn't want to go home just yet, she was too drunk, the noise would wake up her parents. Violet decided to stay in the garden and spend some time on the wall, sobering. She was almost there when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around to see Tate, quickly passing their property. Violet didn't move. He was staring at her, his eyes full of rage. He gripped her arms.

"What the fuck do you think you are…" he stopped her with his own words.

"What the fuck are you doing, Violet?" Once again, she was dumbfounded. Who was he to corner and question her?

"Who are you to demand answers," she spat, her words giving more fire to flickers in his eyes. Tate tightened his grip on her, it was nearly painful.

"It is the middle of the night, you are drunk, you come home with some…"

"Some who?" She didn't give him a chance to answer "Why is that any of your business?"

"I worry about you," said Tate, his voice softer as well as his grip.

"Let go off me." He was staring at her, weight of his vision nearly impossible to bear. Slowly, he backed off. Violet reached for a cigarette. Before she could find her lighter he was already offering her fire. She inhaled deeply, smoke circling her lungs just to be exhaled straight onto his face.

"Stop playing games with me," he said, anger easily detectable in his voice. She liked how low it seemed when he was mad, almost a purr.

"Stop playing games with me," she repeated after him. He took a step closer, his intentions unclear. Her only defense was to attack. She took a step toward him, one of her hands holding the cigarette, the other slowly making its way up his arm. Tate was burning. She softly caressed him, her slim flingers making circles on his skin. He was observing her, eyes half-closed. She put her hand higher, touching his arm, slowly moving closer to his collarbone. Finally, she put her hand on his neck. The blood pumping under his skin made her shiver. He opened his eyes. Violet stepped on her toes, her mouth so close to his she could feel him breath.

"Stop," his voice was demanding. How far could she push him? Violet put a cigarette to her mouth and blew the smoke directly into his. He inhaled deeply, his eyes dark with lust. Before she knew it he had his hand around her neck, tight. Fear made its way onto her face.

"I could break you in half," he said, putting his other hand on her back. Tate was strong and he was right. He could break her in half. He could kill her there and then if he wanted. She swallowed, the situation shouldn't of made her so aroused. If she wasn't drunk she would scream, and kick, and bite. Instead she dropped the cigarette and put her hand in his hair. She pulled onto him, hard. Tate had enough of the games. He tightened his grip enough to make her gag and then pressed his mouth against hers. Warmth spread throughout her body. But she was afraid, afraid of what he was capable off. She jerked her head back. Tate let go of her neck, placing his hands on her back instead. There was no escape but somehow arousal mixed with fear gave her a kick. She wanted to play with fire. Violet pressed her lips against his, rough, her hands in his hair. He pushed her against the wall.

"Open your mouth," he said, his voice low and raspy. Her mind was not working at the same speed as her body. He gripped her neck once again.

"Open. your. mouth," he hissed into her ear. She gave up. Tate's sinister smile made her stomach tighten. He leaned closer and his tongue found its way into her mouth. She could taste him, the cigarettes, distinctive taste of something sweet, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. His lips were chapped and rough, the factor only making her obvious arousal stronger. She put her hands on his back, taking him in, letting him explore her mouth. Violet has never kissed anyone, the feeling strangely pleasant. There was something extremely erotic about the way he played with her tongue, his teeth against her mouth. Her hands were traveling up and down his back, nails digging into his skin. He moaned in her mouth, the feeling making Violet shiver. Tate broke off the kiss and placed his hands on her waist. He was looking straight into her eyes as he lifted her off the ground, her legs wrapping around his hips. She was breathing heavily. Tate placed a wet kiss on her mouth, their tongues barely meeting. Then on the corner of her mouth. On her chin, slowly making his way down her neck. Each contact of his mouth with her skin was leaving a burning mark. He rolled his tongue against her collarbone, finally settling on the base of her neck. He sucked on the delicate skin, pushing Violet to cry out, whether it was from the pain or the pleasure. She felt him hard between her legs. She wanted more. She wanted him inside, wanted him to tear her open. She wanted to be tainted by him. She lowered her hands to his stomach.

"Violet," his voice was low "Stop". Violet looked puzzled. She wanted to ask him why but words were stuck in her throat. He slowly put her down, not looking in her eyes this time.

"I can't," he said "We can't." She was still drunk, drunk of alcohol, drunk of him.

"Why? Why can't we?" Tate took a step back. She looked so small, so vulnerable. Her neck was covered with purple marks, her mouth chapped and swollen from their kisses. If not for the self-disgust that was crippling inside of him he would feel an animalistic pride. Violet looked him in the eyes, her own ones teary, she was clearly holding it back. Tate's heart clenched. She was so young, so pure. He wanted to protect her from all the bad in the world but instead he was the one tainting her with the evil. She was depressed, looking for someone similar, Tate knew the feeling too well. But he also knew that she wasn't a lost cause. He was. He had been a lost cause since the very beginning. She had a whole life ahead of her, the ups and downs but she would make it in the end. Violet was strong. He wasn't. The fact that his actions brought him to this very point was enough of the proof. Tate put his arms around her, holding her close. In the rare moments of his mind's complete clarity he felt as if he could just walk away, leave her, and never look back. Not because he wouldn't want to but because this could save her. But most of the time it was voices and sinister urges, illogical actions and anger. Tate knew that it was illegal, he knew that he should push her away and make her hate him but the feeling of her body in his arms was too good. She was too good for this filthy world they were living in.

"Violet," he whispered "believe me, I want you. Heaven help me I want you so bad."

"We should go inside," she said and held his hand as they made their way into the house.

* * *

Tate felt uneasy entering her room.

"Are you sure that you want me here?" She turned around to look at him. He seemed so lost.

"I wouldn't invite you in if I didn't want to." Her pragmatic self was slowly replacing the little, drunk girl. Tate walked in and sat on the bed. The smell of Violet was overwhelming, he could feel it on the pillows and in the sheets. She didn't mind his presence and started to undress, first went the shoes, later the skirt and thighs. Tate was observing her, his eyes following every move of the girl in front of him. She was so delicate, her skin so pale, he could spot all the veins underneath. His hands suddenly in fists, he wanted to take her so badly. He could almost imagine all the sounds she would make with his hands around her throat. Violet was a virgin and they get wet so easily.

"Tate?" her voice posing a question. She approached him and before he knew she was sitting on his knees, her bare thighs against his clothed ones. Violet put her skinny arms around Tate's neck, her cheek against his cheek. His surprise was quickly replaced with the feeling of complete calmness. Violet was so different from everything that he had known. He put his arms around her, holding her so close, so tight. Tate would say that he is crazy about Violet if not for the fact that he already was. He held her still and turned them around so they were now lying face to face, her thigh on his own, their arms still around each other. Violet put her hand on his face, caressing the skin, examining the features. Tate was looking deep into her eyes, big and curious. He smiled, his dimples showing. She smiled too.

"I like you, Tate," she said and turned around, her back against his chest. Violet was slowly falling asleep, her breathing steadier and quieter with every inhale. Tate cuddled his face into her hair, intoxicating smell filling his nostrils. He was listening to her breathing, her chest slowly rising and falling until he himself drifted off to sleep, holding her as close as he could.


	8. Chapter 7

**I am so sorry for the delay! I couldn't get my hands on the computer yesterday. Hope you enjoy and all reviews are highly appreciated! :-)**

 **Warning: this chapter contains mentions of self-harm. Triggering content is under the last cut.**

* * *

Violet woke up pissed. Her head was pounding, every crack of the old house a torture. She covered her face with a pillow and turned around. Tate wasn't there. She sat down way too quickly, her vision blurred. Violet's first reaction was fear. What if Vivien or Ben noticed him leave? No, no chance. Tate was too smart for this. He must had left somehow early, way before anyone woke up. She eased into the pillows. What started as an easy night-out with Trevor quickly turned into a rollercoaster of emotions. Violet didn't feel embarrassed, she didn't feel guilty either. Her yesterday self was simply lured to him because of alcohol. Encounter with Tate was a one-time thing, he probably thought the same. That was only a kiss, hardly a big deal. At least that's how she justified it. But if so, why did the thought of him made her stomach clench? She remembered how his arms tightened around her, his strong body close, his mouth on her own. Violet recalled how he grabbed and pushed her, taking breath away from her lungs. She could feel him under her fingers, the way she held onto him, nails digging into his skin. Her body reacted to those memories with obvious arousal, material slick between her legs, but her mind was telling her something different. Tate was unpredictable. More than that, he was dangerous. She saw it clearly last night. It is as if he hadn't known whether he had wanted to fuck her or strangle her with his bare hands. There was a slim line between arousal and fear when it came to Tate. Violet enjoyed the ride but at the same time she was fearing for herself. Paradoxically, the thing that was the most dangerous was also the most attractive. She didn't know how to go about this, should she avoid him now or should she pursue something more? She stood up, sheets falling behind her, and went into the bathroom. Violet didn't have to make any decisions yet.

* * *

She was sitting on a stool, chatting with Vivien when they heard a knock on the door. Were they expecting any guests? Her mother walked to the hall just to greet someone kindly. Violet didn't hear any words so she slowly made her way to the kitchen door.

"Ben is normally never late, he must be stuck in a traffic or something," Vivien's voice was warm "Why won't you come in and wait for him with us?"

"That's okay Mrs. Harmon, I can wait in his office." Tate. Violet stopped breathing for a moment. Saturday. Today is a Saturday, the day of his visit. This was going to be awkward as hell.

"I insist," her mother said "come with me." Violet didn't know whether Vivien was inviting him in because she had no idea how dangerous Ben's patients can be or because she knew for a fact that it is better to keep an eye for them.

"Violet," her mother said walking through the door "That's Tate." He was just behind her, looking somehow different than usual. His regular black attire was replaced by old, yellow cardigan and baggy jeans. Tate looked like a lost, sad teenager. Violet started to wonder whether he was dressing this way on purpose when coming to visit Ben.

"Tate," he said, giving her hand. He was smiling, dimples showing.

"Violet," she answered. His hand was cold, ice-cold. Had it always been like this? If so, she had never noticed. He sat down.

"Coffee, tea," asked Vivien, hands in her pockets. She was observing both him and Violet.

"I will have a glass of water, thank you." He not once looked at her mother, his eyes focused on Violet the entire time. Tate seemed at ease. Actually, he looked as if he was sincerely happy to see Violet, no mean-looks, no awkwardness. She felt weird. She expected him to feel bad about last night. After all, it was him who ended things between them so abruptly. They were sitting in silence, tension in the air. Vivien didn't even try to make a small-talk. She must have sensed that something is going on. Loud bang of the door interrupted the weird state they were in. Ben walked into the kitchen, his usual jolly-self was replaced with discontent as soon as he spotted Tate.

"I am sorry for the delay. Tate, please, follow me to the office," he said, his voice cold. He wasn't happy that one of his patients was sitting with his wife and daughter. He gave Vivien an angry look. Tate nodded his head and stood up, his movements quiet. Violet was looking at her hands, not wanting eye-contact with anyone present. As the men left she was ready to jump off her stool and leave when Vivien stopped her.

"Do you know him?" Her mother didn't sound mad or weirded-out. She sounded concerned, as if she knew that something was off but couldn't quite put her finger on it. Violet was thinking how to avoid questioning. She didn't want for Vivien to feel worried but she didn't want for her to know about Violet's whereabouts.

"I mean, he is Constance's son. I've seen him around." She looked her straight into the eyes. "He sometimes comes over, I don't think he lives with her anymore." Vivien was tapping her fingers on the counter. She looked absent, thinking hard about something.

"Have you two been introduced before?"

"Not really. I saw him talking to Constance, they waved at me, I waved at them. You know, the usual neighbor stuff." Lying came so easy to Violet, she was surprised with herself. Vivien gave her a small smile.

"Right. I think I've seen him around too." Her voice was quiet. "Anyway, I need to catch some sun," she added "Want to join me?" Violet didn't want to. She had something else on her mind, the need that she could fulfill only by staying indoors. She shook her head and stood up. Vivien opened the fridge to grab some water and waved her goodbye. She was out the door at the same time when Violet started climbing the stairs. As soon as the door closed behind Vivien she was once again making her way downstairs. Desire to listen to Tate's conversation with her father was strong even though the last time she had heard a lot of unsettling things. Violet slowly made her way to the door, they were slightly opened, a crack big enough to see Tate sitting in a big armchair and Ben seated on the couch.

"Can you describe those visions to me?" her father's voice was calm. Tate was looking at his shoes when he started to speak.

"It always starts the same. We are together. I hold her close. She puts her arm around my neck. I lay her down and we start to kiss, she is so willing," he stopped. His eyes lifted to Ben's face. "And then I put my hand around her neck, gently at first. She likes it. I look into her eyes and I feel the need to do it stronger. I put my other hand on her neck. I get this strong urge. The urge to tighten my hands around her neck till she stops breathing. So I do. She is fighting me at first but she knows she stands no chance. I hold her down and wait for her face to turn blue. When it does I let go. At this point she is already knocked-off. I look at her features, she is so beautiful. And then I put my hands around her neck again to finish what I had started." His gruesome statement was followed by silence. Ben was scribbling something in his notebook. Violet felt sick to her stomach.

"Do these thoughts have therapeutic effect on you?" her father was asking questions again, his voice as calm as it had been.

"They do," the answer was quick.

"Why are they therapeutic, Tate?"

"I like knowing that she is in the better place." His voice was soft.

"What's the better place?" Ben was trying to get deeper, the usual practice that Violet knew well. She had been to the therapy before.

"Anywhere but here," said Tate "The world we are living in is a filthy place." Ben started to write something down again. Tate was observing his face, waiting for the reaction.

"So you are saving her?" Her father's voice was emotionless, it sounded as if he had heard similar things a thousand times before.

"Yeah. I am saving her." Violet's heart was beating fast, her sick curiosity made her listen to something that she hadn't had intention of knowing.

"Why are you so concerned with these visions all of the sudden?" Tate lifted his head and looked Violet straight into eyes. He smiled lightly.

"Because I've met someone." Her heart stopped. Did he know that she had been listening to them from the very beginning? Why had he wanted for her to know all of this? Violet stepped back and put her back against the wall. Her head was spinning, she didn't know what to think. Did he feel serious about her? If so, why would he talk about those things? It was too much even for her. She felt uneasy, her mind full of contradictory thoughts. Violet felt drawn to Tate but now that she had heard of his darkest thoughts, the memory of his strong hands around her neck made her shiver. Violet knew only one way to deal with those emotions.

* * *

She was standing in front of the big mirror in her bathroom. Her hand steady, she was slicing her skin with surgical precision. One clean cut after another, she liked how the wounds burned. Any other time she would stop after two cuts but not today. She rolled the sleeve of her dress higher and put a cold razor against her arm. Applying enough pressure Violet slid it slowly, mark appearing on her pale skin. It was deep enough to bleed, the fluid making its way down her hand to drop slowly on the grey tiles of the bathroom floor. She watched it mesmerized. Funny how drawing blood could make her feel so pure.

"Violet," she dropped her razor in surprise before she realized who was standing in the door. Tate was staring at her, concern visible on his face. He slowly approached her, his eyes focused on Violet's arm.

"Why are you hurting yourself?" he sounded worried but in a weirdly possessive way. He grabbed her hand to see the marks up close. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, the warm feeling spreading throughout her insides. It was too much for Violet, their relation was fucked-up.

"Stop!" she shouted, her arms shaking. She quickly rolled down the sleeves. "What are you even doing here?" Violet was annoyed. He took a step back, his eyes darkening.

"I wanted to check on you," he said, madness making its way into his voice "You know what? If you want to kill yourself, cut vertically. They can't stitch that up." Tate turned around and left, closing the door behind him with a loud slam. Violet was standing there speechless. In that moment she hated him deeply, the way he toyed with her, played on her emotions. But she hated herself even more for still reacting to his touch, her body wanting him so badly. If she couldn't get him off her system with cutting she would deal with it differently. Violet locked the door and turned the shower on, taking her clothes off. She moved the curtain and stepped into the bath, hot water covering her body. As soon as her muscles relaxed she slid her hand down her body, between her legs, to the place no one has yet explored. Violet was touching herself slowly, her fingers sliding inside to the feeling of complete and utter hotness. Her mind drifted off to Tate, his strong arms around her. She was uttering the words he had purred just before they kissed. Her hand was moving faster and faster as she started to think all of the dirty, disgusting things he could do to her. He could push her on the bed, spreading her legs against her obvious refusal, making his way into her body with a strong thrust and then he would put his hands around her throat, tightening them and… Violet came strong around her fingers, her scream silenced by pouring water. After she came back to her senses she grabbed shampoo and poured some on her hands. Massaging it into her hair, a smile was playing on her lips. For a short moment Violet felt free.


	9. Chapter 8

**Next chapter is here. Sadly, I have to inform you that I can't keep on posting twice a week. I am working every day except for Sunday and I don't have much time left to write. I have this story fully planned out (we are half-way there!) but there's not enough time for me to provide you with carefully crafted and edited work as often. From now on I will be posting on Sundays only.**

 **Anyway, we are getting closer and closer to the big thing! I am sorry to leave you hanging like this but what's better than a bit of tension and excitement for the next part? :-)**

 **Also, a big thank you to everyone coming here and reading my work. I see similar numbers of readers with every update so I know that some of you are following this story - once again, a big thank you to you guys!**

 **Note: I know that this chapter is chopped in smaller sections than usual but now's the time when action kicks in.**

 **Warning: mentions of murder.**

* * *

Violet's situation with Tate was messing with her head. Nothing good ever came out of their encounters, nothing good ever came out of her listening to his therapy sessions. She was either feeling either lost or mad and those emontions resulted in abnormal for her frequency of cutting. Violet decided to smother her desires. That was the sole reason why she agreed to go on a date with Trevor. A real date. He wanted to take her out big time, movie, dinner, whatever else he had so carefully planned. When the day came she was ready at 9 P.M. sharp, after work, standing on the street and smoking a cigarette. She didn't want Trevor to meet her parents. She didn't want to introduce him and go through awkward chit-chat with Ben. Violet wanted to run away from Tate. So when Trevor showed up she put on her best smile and accepted his greeting of a warm, wet kiss on the cheek.

* * *

They arrived at her house after a nice evening of sitting on the beach, eating, and drinking some bitter wine that her companion had stolen from his father. If Violet was anything close to romantic she would be flattered that he had tried so hard.

"So… thanks for the date," she said as silence fell between the two of them

"No, I want to thank you for going out with me," he was such a heart-throb. She smirked. It was nice to get away, spend time with someone as easy-going as him. Trevor was your typical good guy from a good home. Charming, chivalrous, and witty to top it all. Violet thought warmly of him. She didn't seem him in terms of a relationship but he was nice nevertheless. She was about to exit the car when he leaned closer, close enough for her to feel his breathing. He was looking into her eyes with hope… hope mixed with fear perhaps? Violet didn't truly feel like kissing him. No fluttering in her chest, her breathing not ragged but she let him move closer and put his mouth on her. It was warm and delicate, soft brush of his lips against hers. She didn't feel sparkles flying but still wanted to take it a step further. She wanted to see if, maybe, an open-mouthed kiss would make her feel like kissing Tate felt. Violet put her hand on Trevor's arm and drew him closer, their mouth meeting again. This time the kiss was different, no time wasted. Their tongues met and he pulled her even closer. It felt good enough but deep inside he just knew - it wasn't it. Violet broke the kiss with a soft stroke on his cheek. Trevor was smiling, almost giggling. For someone who had had "so much experience" the reaction felt odd. She returned the smile and opened the car door, saying her goodbyes. He waved at her and started the engine, driving off as she was entering her house.

* * *

Violet was lying on the couch in the living room, her legs dangling from the side of the couch, when Ben entered the room. She almost rolled her eyes at the thought of conversation with her father. He walked to the alcohol counter, newspaper in one hand and glass in the other. Ben took a whisky bottle and poured him some. Then he turned around and sat in the armchair in front of her. He cleared his throat.

"How was your date last night?" So Vivien told him. Great. She was supposed to lie about going out with friends.

"Good."

"Where did you go?" Why did he always feel a need to question her?

"The beach." She hoped that the one-liners would stop him from investigating any further. Indeed, he was quiet for a moment.

"Can I read you something?" Violet sat up.

"Sure, why not," her voice was full of sarcasm. She crossed her arms. Ben was playing with his glass, newspaper open at his knees.

"Is your daughter next?" he exclaimed, his voice serious. "Another high-school student was found dead last Thursday," he cleared his throat again "The young woman was spotted in a ditch by a group of passers-by. According to police reports, she had been strangled as all previous victims. Post-mortem examination revealed that not long before her death she had engaged in a sexual intercourse, another trait shared by all the murdered women." Ben took a sip out of his glass. "All victims were no older than 18, indicating that the killer is targeting only high-school female population." He took another sip. "Investigation was initiated after the body of first victim had been found a month ago and is still ongoing."

"And?" Violet asked "Do you think that my date is a serial killer?" Ben gave her a patronizing look.

"It is not a laughing matter, Violet." She rolled her eyes.

"I don't understand why we are having this conversation now." She truly didn't. She wasn't stupid. Violet felt uneasy when talking about it with Jamie that time, but according to the article those girls were willing to leave with the killer. They had sex with him for heaven's sake.

"We are having this conversation because I am worried about you." She was quiet. "You are a young woman, going wherever you want, whenever you feel like it."

"I never leave without telling mom." She was getting annoyed with him. "Anyway, I don't know why can't you just trust me one time" Violet must have hit a right spot because Ben's face changed. He put his newspaper and glass down.

"Violet, I trust you. I just want you to be safe, that's all." His voice was softer now.

"Good," she said "Cause I have nothing to hide." That couldn't have been further from the truth.

* * *

She was laying in bed after a long day of work when the idea crossed her mind. She should go out. Violet realized that she hadn't been left alone anymore. Surrounded by people in school and at work, cornered by her parents on any other occasion. She felt as the freedom she had dreamed of just a few weeks ago was slowly fading away. She felt caged, forced to do things expected of her. After she pushed Tate away her static way of living became even more annoying. Violet was doing everything to cleanse her mind from thoughts of him and she was failing miserably every other night, masturbating aggressively to could have beens of their encounter. Tate had become yet another thing that she was fighting with but for what?

"Maybe for the fear of my own sanity," the voice in her head was mocking her. She was slowly realizing that even though she believed herself to be fierce and fearless, she was losing herself in the thing she despised the most – control. Violet stood up and lit a cigarette. She would sneak out tonight. She could go to that dirty little bar and spot Tate in the crowd and if she did…The thrill of the forbidden washed over her. Her pragmatic side had to be quiet tonight, no fear. No fear of rejection. Violet dropped the cigarette out the window and took off her sleeping pants. She put on a pair of black thighs and a burgundy dress, her favorite cardigan on her back. Brushing her hair and knotting them into a high pony-tail she was walking impatiently around her room. She had to leave without waking-up her parents. Violet quietly made her way downstairs, door of their bedroom cracked open. Go in, close the window, go out. Good for her that the room was facing the garden. She entered slowly, the place lit only by the moon. Ben was sleeping with his back to her, his arms around Vivien. Violet moved to the window aware of the every little noise her steps were making. She closed it as quietly as possible when her father moved abruptly. She instantly fell on her knees hoping that he wouldn't see her figure between the curtains. Every second that passed made her adrenaline levels go higher and higher. With Ben's snore she crawled out of their room and quietly closed the door behind her. Violet quickly made her way downstairs and to the car. She started the engine and drove off into the night.

* * *

As she entered the bar she instantly spotted Tom. He noticed her too. Big smile graced his face. She approached the bar quickly and sat on the stool just to be given the drink straight away.

"That's on me," Tom said "Haven't seen ya in a while." Violet took a sip from her glass.

"Yeah, life and stuff, you know. Couldn't make it. But I am here now." She smiled. Violet felt excited even though she didn't have a clear reason. She acted on her impulses and came all the way down here without a plan. The bar was crowded, full of teenage bodies rubbing on each other. Violet spotted some familiar faces. Not that these people were her friends but she had met them at the bonfire. She started to wonder if Trevor was here as well, meeting him wouldn't be ideal in her mind. Violet ordered another drink. And another. Finally she decided to dance, the music was terrible but she didn't care. She let herself be carried from one arms to another, her body sweaty from being in the crowd. Violet felt as in a dream. Calm. Waves of people, someone's hands around her waist. Suddenly, the feeling of uneasiness washed over her. She felt someone's eyes piercing her face. Violet opened her eyes to see Tate, in all his grace, making his way through the crowd. Now she was excited, dizziness in her head strengthening the feeling. None of them said a word when he was pulling her closer, strong body against her own. His hands were on Violet's back, her head at the base of his neck. They were so close, his arms tight around her, she wanted to touch his bare skin so badly. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, normally observant, they were now full of lust. Violet could almost sense his desire. She tightened her hands around his arms and stood on her tiptoes to reach his lips. And when she did she felt as if nothing really mattered anymore, as if she was to get lost in the feeling. He held back of her head as he deepened the kiss, Violet wanted to howl. All the walls that she had built around her were falling and she felt stupid for ever avoiding him. This something between them had felt so good and so right, common sense went off her head. Tate stopped the kiss, caught in some thought, but Violet was in too deep. She pulled his hair to lower his face and brought their lips together yet again. She opened his mouth with her tongue, insisting on taking thing step further. His hand slid down her body to settle on the roundness of her ass, gripping her hard. He broke to kiss again but his mouth found their way to her ear.

"We should leave," his voice was low. She instantly nodded her head. Tate backed up and smiled, his dimples showing. He took her hand as they were making their way out of the crowd. Before they left Violet caught the glimpse of Tom's face. He was standing behind the bar, his eyes full of fear. The situation was too far gone for Violet to stop and think. She was leaving with Tate and nothing could stop her.


	10. Chapter 9

**Hi! I am sorry that this chapter is shorter than all the others. I usually aim for 3k words and end up somewhere around 2,5. This one is under 2k. I know, I know. The thing is, I felt like I said everything that I wanted so there's no point to give you fillers. Also, I wouldn't want to include to big events in one chapter, it spoils the fun ;-).**

 **This may not be what you were expecting but this is how I want this story to go. Don't worry, it will not get fluffy.**

 **As previously mentioned, I now post once a week. Expect a new chapter on September 7th.**

* * *

Tate lived in Marina Del Rey. Violet had heard of the place before but never had a chance to travel to this part of town. They parked in front of new apartment-building. Tate was opening her door before she could reach for the knob. He took her hand and they made their way inside, every step filling her with more and more anxiety. Did she really want it? Tate was searching his pockets for a key as Violet was pacing around impatiently.

"Are you okay?" his voice was quiet. She didn't know if she was okay. She felt excited but the excitement was mixed with fear. Violet nodded her head. Tate gave her a small smile and opened the door. He switched on the light as he was kicking off his shoes. His place was surprisingly clean, he never seemed to be put together so it was a surprise. A big enough studio, grey walls, dark furniture. Sofa was a provisional parting between two sides of the room. On one - a bed and wardrobe, the other book-shelves, desk and kitchen counters. Big window was covering the wall facing the marina. He had surprisingly small amount of personal belongings, even if she wanted to get to know him better – the place was not helping.

"Anything to drink?" his voice interrupted her thoughts. Somehow she couldn't find words, the situation was completely new to her. Violet didn't know what was going to happen. Would they sit and talk? Listen to the music? Fuck? Why did she come here in the first place?

"Coke? Beer? I have some wine but I can't guarantee it's any good," he was smirking.

"Coke sounds good," she said and walked over to the sofa. Violet had had enough of the alcohol, she didn't want to face him drunk yet again. He took two cans and joined her, making himself comfortable. She hesitantly took a sip. Tate laughed.

"If I wanted to add something to your drink, I would make sure you are not suspecting." His statement made her giggle. Violet started to feel more at ease.

"Your place is cool." She didn't know what to talk about but she did want to talk to him. Tate looked around and shrugged.

"I don't think so," he gave her a small smile "I don't like to be surrounded with stuff, you know? I can't focus in crowded spaces."

"Why do you go to crowded bars then?" Violet finally found herself - hit where it stings. His smile now turned sinister.

"To pick women." Tate's statement made her stomach turn. Any other time, Violet wouldn't be fazed with stuff like that. She didn't care to be the one. She didn't care to be anyone's truth be told. Somehow, with him it was different. He leaned in closer and took her hand.

"Violet, I am just joking," Tate's voice was full of concern "I, too, like to drink sometimes. It doesn't feel so strange and lonely when I am surrounded by people." Violet turned her face to look at him. He suddenly looked so small and vulnerable. The atmosphere changed. Half an hour ago they were getting it on around strangers, now they were sitting in his apartment, holding hands, and looking into each-other's eyes. What a cliché. "I care about you," he said finally. Tate was now holding her hand in both of his. His face was so close. Violet tried to stop herself from pressing her lips against his. Refrain.

"You don't know me," she stated. Any sign of concern over her person was always met with hostility. She didn't know how to react.

"I do. I know more about you than you think, Violet." He sounded sincere. Warm. It filled her with something she had never felt before. Violet almost felt as if she could trust him.

"So you were following me after all?" Her comment made him laugh. She laughed too. Funny how comfortable she felt with him. Her gut feeling was right after all, she was running away, fighting with him for no reason at all. Tate was still holding her hand, his thumb caressing the skin.

"I don't need to follow you," his voice soft "you are just like me." Violet was well aware that there were some things connecting them. Tate had cut in the past, he suffered from mental disorder. He was her equal in any discussion they had. Sarcasm and wit were the things she admired in other people. Her closest family lacked them. Still, she wanted to question him further. Violet was curious. She was curious about many things and each time she would take time to look for clues, listen, and research.

"How are we similar?" She smirked. Tate took no time to think of his answer.

"I see myself in you. Quiet. Distant. But there's so much intelligence behind the facade you build. Curiosity. Eagerness to learn, to know" He was listing one thing after another as if he had ready-made list of qualities he himself owned. Violet was struck with realization that Tate indeed was a great observer. Smart, observant, and curious. If they really were so alike then he really must had been great at manipulating people. "I don't really pay attention to anyone, Violet," he continued "I don't really care for people but somehow I care for you. You are so different from everything that I have ever known." He let go off his hand and put his own on the back of her neck, caressing her slowly. For the first time in her life, Violet welcomed such a gesture. It was warm and caring as if they had known each other forever. As if he was genuine in what he was saying. Violet felt as if she could really get to know Tate. Not to know about him but to know him.

"I like you," she said. Her cheeks blushed slightly. She had a foggy memory of saying that already sometime in the past but this time she was fully aware of her emotions. Her words were sincere. Tate smiled warmly, his dimples showing. He moved his hand higher to softly turn her head in his direction and then placed a kiss on her lips. It wasn't mad. It wasn't persistent either, a gentle brush of his lips against her own.

"Will you go out with me?" He mumbled against her mouth. One time he would grip and push her against the wall, the other he would play a gentleman and ask her on a date.

"I am with you now," she teased him.

"Sometimes my emotions take the best of me but I don't want to use you. I want this to be proper," he said "Don't make me beg." There was something erotic in the way he talked about begging. Violet was tempted to push it but in all honesty - she wanted to go out with Tate.

"Begging sounds nice but I'll do without." Her way of saying yes made him laugh yet again.

* * *

If not for the fact that she had sneaked out of her house, she would stay with him and talk, listen to music, or anything else really. But she knew that it was in her best interest to get back before Ben wakes up. As much as Violet enjoyed the time they had spend together, it would be a novice mistake to get caught and be under even bigger jurisdiction of her father. Tate drove her to the bar's parking lot, music playing quietly as their made their way beneath the awakening sun. Normally, she would stare out of the window, caught in her own thoughts, but now her eyes were on him. Tate was focused on the street, not giving her a glance, but his face was graced with a smile, the one that screamed of approval. When they arrived he once again opened the door for her, a real gentleman, except for the times when he would grip and push. Violet smirked. She didn't expect him to walk her to her car, she was not big on kind gestures, but this one made her feel as if she was cared for. Not that Ben and Vivien didn't care for her, they did but in a way that she couldn't approve of. With Tate it seemed as he was caring about her unconditionally, not expecting anything in return. He waited for Violet to find a keys and open the door. When she got into the car he lowered himself so their faces were now on the same level.

"I will pick you up tomorrow," he started "We don't want Ben to know. Say you are going out with friends, they are picking you up but you have to walk a few blocks. I will be waiting." With his last words he placed a kiss on her forehead. She returned the small act of affection with a slow caress of his neck.

"I will see you tomorrow." He backed off and closed the door quietly. Violet could see him standing by his car as she was driving off.

* * *

She made it into her bedroom quietly, undressed, and lit a cigarette. After all that had happened, her view on things changed. Violet finally admitted to herself that she wanted to spend time with Tate. She didn't only want to lurk in the shadows and listen. Funny how things change. Violet had never seen herself as someone emotional, a person to let someone close. She was struck by a strange feeling of pride - he would still try to get close to her, after all the times she had pushed him away. She used to think that he was appealing, but in an odd way. All it took was a few warm gestures, a sense of intimacy. These things were always there, against his somehow terrifying actions, he was just a man, perhaps a little lost but still. Someone similar to her, an outsider with attraction to the darkness, person battling his own monsters. She would never be the one to let her judgment be clouded, so it wasn't a case. Violet finally understood that she liked him because of his two, completely different, sides. Tate was unpredictable but it was only making him more interesting in her eyes. His behavior was destructive and so was her attraction to him, Violet understood it perfectly. Yet, desire to let loose, to experiment, to do things against wishes of the average people, was out-weighting her sane judgment. Their mutual attraction was wrong but, to both of them, it felt exactly right.


	11. Chapter 10

**Hi! I'm quite pleased with myself cause this is the longest chapter that I've ever posted. Since I am updating once a week now, I've decided that you all deserve a bit longer pieces. I'll try to aim for something around this word count from now on. Hope you enjoy!**

 **P.S. Prepare for something big in the next chapter. :-)**

* * *

"Mom?" Violet's voice echoed against the walls of the house. She entered the kitchen to spot Vivien mixing something in a big bowl. She raised her head and gave her daughter a wide smile, patting the stool next to her.

"Sit and talk with me." Violet had to break the news of her going out that night. She was panting to leave already, excitement running through her body. "How's school? How's work?" Vivien was asking one question after another, which made Violet realize that they hadn't had a one on one talk in a while.

"Good. The usual." Try as she might, she couldn't get rid off the vagueness.

"Nothing interesting happening? What about that boy?" For a moment Violet stood in her tracks, thinking that Vivien had somehow found out about Tate, but she quickly realized that Trevor was the person of the interest. Truth be told, she hadn't seen him in quite a while. After that date he called her once, but she pretended to be busy with unspecified "stuff". Deep inside, she cared for that boy and didn't want to hurt him, but it just wasn't meant to be.

"Actually, I am going to see him now," she started "Along with some other people." Vivien gave her a questioning stare.

"You never told me you had plans." Violet didn't expect her mother to question rather frank sounding statement.

"I didn't have plans. He texted me today to invite me out."

"Let's say I believe you," her feature's eased a bit "But I hope that he will drive you home after."

"He will," Violet gave Vivien a quick smile and walked to the door "I will see you later." All conversations with her parents were uncomfortable. If she tried to be herself, they were scalding her for it. If she distanced herself, they were unhappy that she is so sheltered. Violet took a deep breath and made her way down the street. Her and Tate didn't agree on a certain spot but she knew that he would be waiting somewhere close-by. Sure enough, he was parked about a block away. As if he knew that Violet was approaching, he stepped out the car and turned around to greet her. She didn't know what to expect so his tight hug around her was a pleasant surprise. Violet's face landed on his chest, he was a good feet taller than her.

"You smell nice," he mumbled in her hair.

"You smell like laundry detergent," she said, her nose against his shirt. Tate laughed and backed off to look at her. His curls were a mess, it looked as if he was running his hands through his hair a dozen of times. With his pale skin and dimples that presented themselves with every smile, he looked nearly angelic. If not for the fact that Violet had seen his other part, she would be sure that he was one of those boring, beautiful boys that pretended to write poetry and stared at themselves in a mirror twenty times a day. Tate opened the door for her and was soon behind the starring-wheel himself.

"Where are we going?" Violet asked as he turned on the engine.

"To my favorite spot," he said and put his hand on her thigh.

* * *

Everyone in L.A. seemed to do everything on the beach. Even though Tate was so different from every other local, he seemed to like sitting by the ocean as much. The difference, which Violet felt content with, was that the place he picked was secluded enough. Close to the water, far away from the crowds. After he had carefully placed a blanket on the sand, they both sat down, arm to arm, their heads almost touching. Tate took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, quickly passing it to Violet. He was observing as she inhaled and exhaled, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Do you like it here?" She didn't know if he was asking about the beach or about the area in general.

"Depends on what you mean."

"I mean whatever you want to tell me." Violet admired his intelligence.

"I got used to California but it's different from Boston. I thought that it would be terrible," she paused for a moment "But it's bearable." Tate was listening carefully to her every word.

"Why would your family move across the country?" Violet wasn't sure whether he knew the answer already, she wouldn't be surprised. Tate was aware of much more than he let on. She didn't care either way, it's not like she wanted to keep the secret the way Ben and Vivien did.

"My dad cheated. The girl was 20 years his junior," she was observing his face "Somehow he convinced my mother that we should start anew in a new place. Shit about things getting better, new surroundings, new house, new people. He used that psychotherapy bullshit on her and she agreed." Only then did she realize how little she cared about that stuff now. Back in the day the bitterness would wash over her but not anymore.

"That's terrible, Violet," Tate's voice was firm "Cheating is disgusting." She nodded her head in agreement. They were thinking alike.

"What about you?" She wanted to know his back-story, put all the pieces together.

"I was born and raised here. Lived in your house and after my dad," his voice trembled "Died, we moved across the street. Whole life in the same place, same faces. If not for my mother I wouldn't be stuck here." His voice was filled with resentfulness, disgust even. The way Tate talked about his mother checked with his therapy sessions... But it didn't check out with what he had told her long time ago when she encountered him on the street that one time.

"You don't like Constance?" He turned his face to look her in the eyes.

"I hate that bitch," slow hiss went out of his mouth "She used to tell me that he had killed himself, you know? I don't believe a word coming out of her mouth. She has always been manipulative, stuck in the little world of her own. The world of perfect life she had never been granted, the illusion of her perfect son." Violet didn't expect him to open up that much. "I would leave her behind if not for Addie. She can't protect herself against Constance." Everything clicked in her head. The things that Constance had said about her husband and her children. The fact that Tate was still visiting his mother's house even though he clearly despised her. All of his lies. Violet came to the conclusion that the life of a guy in front of her was way tougher than her. Tate was faced with things that never even crossed her mind. She started to understand his strange behavior. Looking at him there and then, Violet didn't see a man, but a little boy in man's body, lost and cracked years before they met. She put his hand on his, squeezing it lightly.

"I am so sorry." His face changed and his eyes were now filled with warmth she had never seen before.

"Don't be. My life's better now that you are here." Tickly feeling was building in her stomach. She hadn't realized it before, but just like everyone else, she yearned to be understood and cared for. Violet slowly moved closer and placed her lips on his. It was different from everything she had ever experience, a statement that she couldn't find words for. Their first two encounters were purely physical, but this was something else. Violet placed a hand on his neck, caressing him gently, their kiss so delicate, so good. She shivered. Tate put his hands around her, his hands traveling on her back until he carefully lied her down, covering her body with his own. The kiss was a slow, sensual game of exploring one another. He was nibbling on her lip and tongue, his breathing heavier with each time their mouths were meeting. Violet slid her hands under his shirt, his muscles tightening with every move he made. Her legs were crossed, slick arousal spreading on her inner thighs. Tate moved down from her lips, leaving a wet trail down her neck. He put his hands under her shoulders, lifting her slightly, and continued with the kisses till he reached the hollow between her breasts. She loved how this time it was so slow, almost lazy, desire bubbling inside of her. Violet expected him to undress her, but he did something completely different. Tate put his ear to her chest and stopped all that he was doing. They were just laying, his face between her breasts, her hands in his hair. Violet was looking at the sky.

"Do you ever wonder about the world?" What a strange thing to ask. She wasn't one of those who pondered the mysteries of the universe.

"Why?" Tate was playing with her shirt, he seemed to be deep in his thoughts.

"It's such a filthy place we live in," he said finally "So much pain and sorrow." She had a feeling that she had heard him talking about it in the past. The ever-recurring trope of the bad, bad world. "Sometimes I look at people I care about and I want them to be in the better place," he continued "You are so pure Violet," he gazed at her. "Not tainted with all the bad that his place has to offer." She should feel uneasy but instead her mind drifted off to his therapy sessions. Was Tate truly psychotic? They way he talked about these things, it seemed as his statements had underlying meaning.

"I don't ever think about stuff like that," she said, her voice calm. For a split second he seemed baffled, as if he couldn't believe that Violet didn't want to talk about it, or maybe that he let himself say it out loud. Tate was good at hiding the darkness creeping inside of his mind, but once in a while he would let his guard down. It never ended well.

"Oh okay," he stuttered, rising to the sitting position "Do you want to grab something to eat? There's a nice place with burgers nearby, we can visit if you want." He gave her his best smile. She returned it and put her hand on his arm, squeezing it gently.

"I am starving, let's go."

* * *

They were sitting in his car, none of them wanting to part ways. Tate put on The Smiths, he figured that Violet would like some of the old-school stuff. She was mouthing the words, cigarette dangling from her fingers. The streets were covered in darkness, all the perfect families long inside. Tate found intimacy in those simple moments. He had never been good at being close to people. None of the girls he had dated made him feel as comfortable. The realization that she let him so close made him both nearly ecstatic and worried. The things would slip out of his mouth, he couldn't contain the urge to touch her, hold her, savor her. Once again he felt at the edge. He was pursuing her since they first met, not without obstacles and slips, but in the end they arrived at the point that he had never imagined they would arrive at. Still, the anxious feeling was creeping in the back of his head, the idea that he was invested on the verge of the obsession, and the fact that the closer they were the more harm he could cause. His mental ramblings were followed with a fit of rage, his hands curling in fists on his lap. Nauseous feeling of self-hatred filled him from head to toes. Anytime he tried to do a good deed, be a better man, the voices, the feelings, were overwhelming him, lighting him the way toward the ugly and vile. All that was going through his head was a reaction to the day they had spent, realization how pure and good Violet is. How smart and understanding, not a particle of evil in her slender body. He wanted her so badly and he was making last attempt at stopping himself before he would be in love so deep that he couldn't tell good from bad.

"I see you are thinking hard of something," her mocking voice interrupted his self-reflection.

"Just feeling the moment, you know." He leaned in to her and place a small kiss on her lips. "You better get going, Ben will be worried about you."

She smirked and exited the car.

* * *

Violet avoided confrontation with either of her parents by announcing loudly that she was home and that she needed to take a bath. She ran to her room, two steps at the time, overjoyed with everything that had happened that day. She was ready to throw herself at the bed and replay all of the events in her mind over and over again, but she was stopped in tracks as she noticed the newspaper laid-out on her sheets. It was opened on the page titled "Yet Another Murder in the Area," followed by the wall of text and pictures of young women. Spark of anger ran through her body. Violet didn't know whether she was more mad that Ben had entered her room while she was gone, or that he had entered her room with intention of leaving the newspaper behind. Once again she was treated like a silly child. She huffed and sat down, taking the paper in her hands. She was already mad so why not read the article. As it turned out, The High-School Killer, as he was originally referred to, attacked again, same type of victim, no other tropes, no DNA collected. Violet spent some time studying the pictures of dead girls, apparently they posted their faces with long descriptions of their lives as to touch the hearts of the readers. Or the killer maybe, but Violet doubted that someone who picked those girls, had sex with them, and later strangled them would feel any remorse because he grabbed the newspaper with their faces plastered all over it. She threw the newspaper on the ground and lit a cigarette. Pointless ramblings, those things would happen, especially in heavily-populated areas. As if Boston hadn't produced its own freaks and psychopaths. In fact, if anything, Ben should had been worried back there, way smaller population than in L.A. Violet turned around, inhaling deeply, before the thoughts of murders changed into the thoughts of Tate. She was replaying their meeting in her head, over and over again, until she was sure that the decision to meet with him was one of the best that she had made since arriving in hot and sweaty California.


	12. Chapter 11

**Note: I've tried to experiment with retrospection. I've never done that in this story, but I thought that it would fit nicely. What do you think?**

 **Warning: this chapter contains mature themes and mentions of self-harm.**

* * *

Violet knocked on his door unsure whether she should be there at all. Few seconds passed with no answer. She knocked again and put her ear against the door. Violet could swear that she heard muffled sounds of music. Slowly, shameful realization made it into her head. It was instantly followed with the feeling of heat spreading on her neck and face. She turned into one of those girls that wouldn't take a hint. Violet cursed at herself internally and turned around to leave, making sure that each of her steps is as quiet as possible. Sour feeling of disappointment mixed with shame was filling her insides. She was sick of the unclear situation between the two of them, but most of all, she was sick of her vulnerability. Violet had opened herself to someone for the first time in her life, and that's how it ended. Hopes and expectations. Attachment. That was the exact reason why she had avoided getting close to anyone. Loneliness was good for her, no hard feelings toward anyone but herself. She was at the last step when she heard the voice from above.

"Violet!"

* * *

"Violet!" She turned around to see Trevor coming her way, cigarette in one hand, energy drink in another. Her first instinct was to run away and hide, but it was quickly replaced with sober thoughts. She couldn't avoid him forever. "Violet," he said again, finally catching up with her "I haven't seen you in a while. Why didn't you answer my calls?" She wanted to tell him kindly, yet firmly that they would never work-out and she avoided him to spare him the disappointment, but it wouldn't be considered normal. Instead she smiled faintly and turned her face in his direction. He surely wasn't expecting the harsh truth and Violet wasn't going to give him that anyway.

"I was busy." Her voice didn't sound sincere but she doubted that Trevor would notice.

"That's life. I mean, so busy that you couldn't return even one of them? I wanted to take you out for dinner." Violet quickened her pace to arrive at her usual lunch-break spot. She put her bag down and leaned against the tree.

"I'm sorry," she uttered finally "I'll call you back next time." Her statement must had sounded harsher than she wanted because his face changed. He looked surprised for a second which was quickly followed by the sadness in his eyes. Violet hated to deal with stuff like that. She never had the desire to lead people on, in her mind it was something that shallow girls would do to make up for their hidden lack of self-esteem. Trevor extinguished his cigarette and squeezed her arm gently.

"I know you will," he said and turned around to leave. He waved his goodbye before he disappeared from her sight. Violet sat down, her legs suddenly weak. She still wasn't over her meeting with Tate. Days had passed and instead of getting more distant, she felt closer to him, now more than ever. Not an hour was spent without her wondering when they would see each-other again. Violet hated the weaker, more romantic part of her nature, but at the same time she felt overjoyed that she had found him in this foreign place. Lazy smile creeped onto her face as she drifted off to the thoughts of their last meeting.

* * *

Tate was gazing at her. Violet was overridden with conflicting feelings. She could give him a long stare and leave, but that would make her look like conceited bitch. If she were to get back, he would think that he has her rolled around his little finger. For a short moment she was unsure of what her next step should be.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled from above "Violet, please. Come upstairs and we will talk." She was lost the moment he started talking in his broken, begging voice. Her slow steps were echoing against the walls of the building. When they finally stood face to face, Violet wasn't feeling confident at all. Tate had hands in his pockets, his figure bended. He looked like a little boy again. He made no move toward her so she passed him and entered the apartment. Tate followed her and closed the door quietly. His face seemed different now. It looked as if he was holding something back and any minute now it would pour out.

"We need to talk," he whispered, and his quiet voice made her more afraid than if he screamed. She was standing there quietly when he took a long step just to arrive at mere inches from her.

* * *

Tate hadn't showed up for his therapy session. Ben tried calling him and even considered visiting Constance, but decided that it would be silly to ask about her adult son's whereabouts. Violet was observing the situation from afar, worry creeping in the back of her mind. At first she was afraid that something happened to him for he had never skipped therapy before, but the more she thought about it, the more anxious she felt. If she wasn't so insecure, she would never think that his absence had something to do with her. Her mind was giving her different answers though, each one worse than the previous one. Violet was stuck in the never-ending circle of self-doubt and anxiety. She even resorted to the habit of cutting, the marks on her skin being also the marks of worse times. Anytime her life was flowing steadily, the razor was hidden deep in her mattress. Once something happened, it would find its way onto her arms. By the end of the weekend she couldn't contain herself any longer. She was on the verge of madness and needed to clear the situation between them. As she entered the car and started the engine, she wasn't sure what was she really going to achieve. Should she outright confront him? Or pretend that she just wanted to pay him a friendly visit? Violet had never found herself in such a situation so she was thinking of all possible solutions. Climbing up the stairs of his apartment building her mind was no clearer than it had been minutes ago when she was driving down the dimly lit street. She braced herself and knocked on the door, not knowing what awaited behind.

* * *

He took her hand and led her to the couch. As soon as they sat down, he backed off, his hands curled in fists on his lap.

"What are we doing," she asked to break the extremely uncomfortable silence that was arising around them.

"Violet," he started, but she had enough of it. Violet, Violet, Violet. He thought that because her name rolled off his tongue like a love song, she would not question things that he did.

"Stop with the Violets," she interrupted him. "What's going on Tate? Why wouldn't you contact me? Why would you skip therapy?" His face changed. It was as if his mind was giving him conflicting signal. He looked both mad and sad.

"I've had stuff to do," he uttered through clenched teeth "I'm sorry if you felt left-out, but I thought that it would be for the best." Violet felt taken aback.

"Since when do you decide what's good for me?" She was feeling defensive. Tate grabbed her arms aggressively and pulled her closer.

"Since I know that I'm a threat," he hissed "You shouldn't have come here, Violet." He sounded as if he meant it, but his eyes were saying something different.

"You are not a threat," she mumbled under her breath "I don't feel threatened by you." It wasn't a full truth, but she wanted so badly to get answers from him. Tate smiled faintly, his grip easing-off. He chuckled. It wasn't sincere in the slightest.

"I'm doing everything I can to leave you alone" he said "But I can't". Violet felt warmth building in her stomach. "I can't leave you and I can't control myself around you." His words made her melt like a candy. He was showing his affection in the most twisted way possible, but it was affection nevertheless. Violet finally got the answer that she had been waiting for.

"Then don't," she whispered looking into his eyes. Tate lowered his head to hers and before she could exhale with relief, his lips were on hers. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and she clutched her hands in his hair to pull him closer. He opened her mouth with his tongue, the taste of the alcohol and cigarettes spreading on her own. Violet was filled with longing and she felt as if she couldn't get enough. His hands were traveling on her neck and arms. She was lost in the feeling, wetness on her mouth and between her legs. He grabbed and lifted her to sit on his lap. Her legs tangled around his calves, his hands on her thighs. He squeezed her and she let out and involuntarily moan, a small sound that made Tate's eyes widen. He pulled her close yet again, exploring her neck and base of her jaw. A wet mark was left in every place that his lips met her skin. She wanted more. Her hands traveled to his zip and before she could feel him fully, he stood up, lifting her with him. Her legs slid to the ground as he put his arms around her and kissed her more hungry than before. Their kiss messy, as if they couldn't find a right rhythm. Tate started leading them toward the bed. When back of her knees were met with stiff mattress, he broke the kiss. They were now gazing at each other, eyes filled with lust. He gently pushed her back and Violet landed on the sheets, legs spread apart from clumsy try to keep her balance. Tate kneeled between her thighs and put his hands under her back to lift her ever so slightly. Their lips met again but this time it was more angry, just as if he couldn't stop himself any longer. He was dominating over her, with his body as well as his mind. When another moan left her mouth, he backed off. His hands slid down her body to settle on the band of her thighs.

"You purr like a little kitten," he whispered and removed them slowly, almost with solemnity, his hands traveling up and down her legs. The tension was unbearable, Violet sat down and pulled his shirt up and over his head. He removed her cardigan and gently caressed soft skin on her back. It was then when Violet realized that just taking off these two pieces made her bare. While the old cuts had faded away, the news one were angry red and hence painfully visible. She knew that Tate wouldn't be disgusted with them, but the feeling of shame filled her nevertheless.

"Don't hide," he mumbled as if he could hear her thoughts. He took her hand and placed a soft kiss on the scar she beared on her wrist. Then he did something that sent shivers down her spine, he moved his lips up her arm. Something nearly animalistic flashed in his eyes as his tongue rolled around the fresh cuts. He pulled Violet to sit on his lap, her legs tight around his hips. He was looking into her eyes as he lifted the hem of her dress and slid his hand under. Her body froze. One of his hands was securing her hip while the other one moved lower, and lower until it rested on the very center of her panties. She had never been in sexual situation with a man before, but she understood they way Tate's gaze asked for her approval. Violet nodded her head and he slowly moved her pants aside to touch the heated skin. His fingers were circling the wetness between her legs, she knew the pleasant feeling well enough. It's not like she had never touched herself before. Her hand clenched onto his arm as his fingers made their way inside of her, stroking her lightly. His eyes was half-closed as he continued, Violet's soft moans accompanying his every stronger move. Her first natural reaction to the sounds that his fingers were making inside of her was shame, but it was soon followed with the urge to return the pleasure that he was giving. She clumsily unzipped his jeans and touched him gently through the fabric of his boxers. Violet was completely inexperienced, but she didn't feel as if it mattered to him. Maybe, probably, it even made him more eager to have her. His fingers started to move more frantically as she slid her hands to hold him, skin to skin. She liked how he felt under her hand. Her fingers closed around him and started to move, trying to match the rhythm he had appointed. His free hand moved from her hip to her neck, gripping her, pulling her to his lips. They were both breathing heavily, their mouth dry, tongues unable to meet from the feelings overflowing their bodies.

"Do you want to," he muttered, his eyes wide-open. Violet had never really though of her first time before. Well, she did, but more in a terms of it just happening rather than imagining the whole, love ritual.

"Yeah," she blurted and as soon as the words left her mouth, his fingers slid out of her body. She let go of him and moved back, as he kneeled on the end of the bed to reach the drawer. Tate pulled out a condom out of the packet and placed it in her hands. He himself turned to take off his pants. Violet was observing his body, no detail escaping her notice. She knew that she would be replaying that moment in her mind, over and over again. As soon as he was done he returned to his previous position and grabbed her to sit on his lap again. Only that now she was dressed, and he was completely naked, which made every muscle in his body tense. He kissed her hungrily, working on her dress, and when he finally took it off, he stopped in awe. Tate loved how small and vulnerable she looked. It contrasted well with lust in her eyes. He unclipped her bra and as it slid on the sheets, his head was already between her breast. He wanted her so badly it nearly ached him. He cupped her right breast in his hand and closed his mouth around her nipple, his tongues circling it as if Tate's life depended on it. Violet could not stop her back from arching. Now, that was something entirely new. He sucked on the delicate skin, his lips moving all around her. She decided that if they are about to do it, she better try and pretend that she's perfectly capable of using condoms. She ripped the package open and tried to unroll it when he stopped her.

"Take off your pants," Tate's voice didn't sound like a command, more like a plea, but Violet was quick to obey anyway. Her panties were around her calf when he grabbed her around the hips. She was now kneeling over him, knowing very well that if she was to lower herself an inch he would enter her. Violet enjoyed the moment they shared, looking in each other eyes, her hands on his arms, clutching him. She thought she was ready but when he slid inside her without a warning, her eyes teared up. The feeling was extremely unpleasant, as if something was tearing her, and all she wanted was for him to back up. He hugged her to his chest, stroking her hair. Tate was whispering in her ear, something about it getting better in a moment, and how happy he was that she let him do it in the first place. As the pain eased off a bit, her hips jerked involuntarily. He once again placed his hands on her hips and lifted her slightly to slide into her again. Violet started to enjoy the feeling, however strange. Few more movements directed by him and she had her arms around him, moving quicker and quicker. The friction mixed with eased-off, but not completely gone, pain was making her breathing ragged. They were now moving in a somehow steady rhythm. Tate arched his back a bit and she could take a look at their connection. There was something dirty but utterly erotic about him thrusting into her, and her observing the whole act. For a moment she felt like in a pornographic movie with extreme close-ups, which only added to her arousal. Tate held her hips steady and started thrusting into her in a slower, but way forceful manner. His every move was hitting her to the core and she didn't know whether she felt pleasured or hurt. He closed his eyes and Violet could study his focused face, sweat appearing on his forehead, and the veins getting more and more visible on his neck. With the next hard thrust he put his hand around her neck and pushed her on the back. He was now covering her with his body, her legs closing around his back. He tightened his grip and the lack of air mixed with the feeling inside of her was making her purr. With three more thrusts he finished, his breathing heavy, and his body putting all of its weight on Violet. Few short breaths exited his mouth and he slid out of her slowly. As he stood up, she rolled on her side and clumsily slid on the dress.

"I am tired," she whispered as he sat on the mattress. Tate laid down and put his arm around her, his eyes closing.

"Me too."


	13. Chapter 12

**Hi! I am sorry for the delay. I work a full-time job and sometimes it's hard for me to squeeze in writing and editing. Especially if I want to have any sort of social life haha. Anyway, the delays happen and I try not to get into habit of them, but you know the drill. Don't worry though, even if I don't post on schedule from time to time - I'm not quitting until I finish this story!**

 **Warning: mentions of _drug_ abuse. **

**Note: I decided to include sleeping pills instead of cocaine because I'm pretty acquainted with how they work, especially used in a way that Tate uses them. No, I'm not taking them myself. A good of friend of mine was addicted to all sorts of anti-depressants and he had to go on a REALLY strong sleeping pills as well. Please, don't ask me what kind of pills work like that or how to obtain them. For obvious reasons I left out all the names and changed some details. Remember - this is a work of fiction and I do not, under any circumstances, encourage people to do harmful stuff to themselves.**

 **Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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Uncomfortable feeling in Violet's bones woke her up. She felt as after an intense work-out, only that instead of having sore arms or legs, her pelvis and hips were the ones aching in a weird manner. It was as if pressure was applied on them from within. She freed herself from Tate's strong grip and turned on her back. Violet stretched, which was followed by a cringe-worthy crack of her spine. Or something else, not that she knew much about anatomy. She lifted her head slightly and looked around the room. Tate didn't have any clocks, neither on the night-stand or anywhere else, but thanks to the weak sunlight creeping through the curtains, she assumed that it must have been quite early. She turned again, this time to face Tate. He was still deep asleep, his mouth opened slightly, head glued to his arm. He was wearing nothing but clearly worn-out black boxers and Violet couldn't help herself, but to admire his masculine physique. There definitely was something sexy about his strong figure. She even caught a glimpse of dark hair disappearing down his pants. Violet realized that she was acting like a total creep, admiring his body as he slept soundly, and she let out a small chuckle. She shifted her focus to his face and before she knew it, her fingers were traveling in his hair. They slowly slid to his forehead and later cheek, finally running over his jaw. Violet didn't know why but she felt strong urge to remember him with her hands, it was as if images would fade away with time. She would forget the exact color of his hair or eyes, but she would always remember the feeling of his face below her fingers. That wasn't a matter of sentiment, more of how her mind worked. For example, she would never buy clothes because she especially liked the design or color. She needed to feel the texture to decided if she could put it on her back. Most of her things would be considered "specific-looking" to put it nicely, but she didn't care as long as they were thick enough to cover her, or scratchy enough to make her skin feel funny. Violet found it hilarious how she compared Tate to a piece of clothing, but it was a spot-on comparison. He was like her favorite T-shirt she slept in. Worn-out and not exactly to be flaunted in public, but her favorite nevertheless. Her fingers lifted from his jaw and settled on his lips. She was careful not to put on too much pressure while she was lining out the contour of his mouth, but Tate woke up anyway. Violet took back her hand quickly, her cheeks blushing madly. She should have owned up to her behavior, act as if nothing had happened, but feeling of embarrassment washed over her with the speed of a thunder, and she couldn't even bring herself to look him in the eyes. He let out a small laugh and lifted himself to half-sitting position.

"So you are stalking me after all," he said jokingly. It eased her off a bit, he could always make her feel adequate.

"You look like a baby when you are sleeping," she started "Different from your usual self, huh?" She didn't know whether she tried to annoy him jokingly. or sincerely refer to the events of the past, but it didn't matter as her statement fell onto deaf ears.

"Did it hurt?" Tate blurted. "First time usually does." He was being uncomfortably straightforward and that was one of the things that made Violet feel as if he truly was mentally-disturbed. Another, much more pleasant, thought crossed her mind instantly after. He cared. He didn't ask to make her feel weird. He asked because he wanted to know if she is okay.

"It was alright," she said. Violet was honest, no need to sugar-coat stuff. She was happy to get her first-time out of the way. After the fact, she actually felt content that she did with him. Not because she cared about how it would happen, but because she really, really liked him. If they were to part ways, which Violet expected would soon happen, she would not regret that they had done it. Tate pulled her close and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

"It was 'alright' for me too," he said.

* * *

They parted ways as soon as sun fully raised. Tate had even offered her coffe, and bacon and eggs (which was met with a sarcastic remark about his cooking skills) before she left, but she refused and opted for single cigarette and can of coke. He went downstairs with her, which made Violet feel warm inside, and waited for her to start the car. Once she did, he leaned through the window and gave her a whole-hearted kiss. On her way home Violet reached into the bag she had forgetfully left in the back-seat. She acted on her emotions and her usual behavior of careful sneaking-out was replaced with frantic running down the stairs and closing doors with a loud bang. If Ben was by any chance awake when she was leaving, hell would await back home. She unlocked her phone, her breathing ceasing. Nothing. No messages, no unaswerd phone-calls. She sighed with relief. They were most probably still asleep and if she was to encounter her mother while entering the house, she would make a show of hiding cigarettes and pretending as if she had been out to smoke. Violet was happy. She didn't know what would happen next, but at that very moment, future looked bright and overwhelming feeling of joy was filling her from head to toes.

* * *

Tate didn't know what to do with himself after she had left. For the first time in his life he felt about someone so strongly. He had always had problem with attachment, but most often it was caused by circumstances that he simply couldn't erase. Deep down he felt attached to Constance, mainly because she had always been manipulative and over-protective. He surely felt attached to Addie, for both of them had suffered from their mother's character, his sister even more so than him. But romantical attachment - it was something entirely new. His feelings for Violet bordered on obsession. He didn't know whether he felt drawn to her because of the way she carried herself or quite the opposite - because she had been so delicate and fragile under that emotionless armor. At first his plans were sinister, as with every other, but there was some light in Violet that made him feel less like a monster, and more like actual human being. He admired her courage and sharp mind. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more things he admired. In his eyes she was flawless, perfect to the point where he felt as if it was his duty to protect her from the outside world, for otherwise she would soon be tainted with all the things he despised. And the fact that she had given herself to him made him feel even more so. Not only did he have her mind, but he also had her body. Slender, thin, pale body that he wanted to fill with himself. He could snap her with his bare hands, and the fact that he owned something so fragile made him feel even more inclined on protecting it. Tate wandered to his night-stand and opened the drawer. Under the stash of things there it was, a pack of really strong sleeping pills that he had been described by some half-assed psychiatrist some time ago. They made him feel relaxed to the point of complete lack of reaction. Back in the day he had been snorting cocaine but once he moved out, he decided that keeping sleeping pills is safer. Not that he would ever do anything for cops to track him down, but with his academic career it was better to be safe than sorry. After all, sleeping pills were legal. He took 3 capsules out of the pack and opened them to pour whitish dust on the surface. He wasn't taking them regularly. Hell, he wasn't a junky. Pills were his gate-away when he got mad, but also much needed extension to pleasurable feelings, and those were happening more often after he had met Violet. He searched for credit card and a dollar. Tate knew that snorting that stuff was dangerous, especially snorting a few at the time, but if swallowed, they would take some time to work, and he wanted immediate effect. He created three thin lines and took them one after another. As soon as the last one hit his nose he lied down. Soon everything was muted, and calm, and his mind was filled with pleasant thoughts. Small amount of blood dripped from his nose and travelled down his cheek but Tate didn't care. He was smiling, his eyes focused on the ceiling above.

* * *

This time Tate didn't leave her hanging. Anytime he was in the neighborhood he would do some small, but meaningful act to show her that he remembers. Sometimes she would find a note stuck somewhere in her car or a neatly rolled cigarette, sitting on the wall, waiting for her once she needed to get some "fresh air," as she ironically put it. It was as if Tate was from a different time. No phone-calls, texting, or even e-mailing. He would show-up physically to contact her in one way or another. If anyone else did something like this, Violet would think that they are over the top cheesy, but with Tate it somehow felt right. She had never imagined that someone would give her so much warm attention, but she had to admit that it felt good. She was slowly realizing that maybe, just maybe, having someone close would not always be a chore. It wasn't as if she had had tons of meaningful memories or close friends before. Violet's life used to be predictable and somehow the most unpredictable thing that her family had ever done, turned out to be good for her. She was wandering the possession, deep in her thoughts when easily recognizable, yet not really welcomed, voice broke the silence.

"Violet darling," Constance was standing on her lawn, wide smile plastered on her face "Won't you come in for a glass of tea?" The proposition seemed odd at best. They were not friendly with each-other. Sure, Constance would visit her family sometimes, uninvited of course, but anytime her overly warm greetings ended, she would send Violet a disgusted look. Not like she cared, but resentment on their neighbor's side was clear. Once again though, the curiosity took the best of Violet.

"Sure, why not," she shouted, crossing the path between their possessions. Constance led her to the door and waited for her to come in before closing the door. Interior was strikingly similar to their house's with dark wood, floral wallpapers, and heavy, old-school furniture. That woman must had really loved the Murder House. Violet followed Constance to the spacious kitchen, taking in all of the details.

"Do you like sweet tea?" Constance's voice echoed against the walls as she opened the fridge.

"Never tried it before," Violet couldn't help but feel as if she just committed a massive faux-pas for her answer was met with a polite smile that didn't reach Constance's icy gaze. She put two tall, crystal glasses filled with ice on the table and poured both of them the tea. After that she finally sat down with a gracious move, which Violet understood as an invitation to sit down as well. She took a sip of sickeningly sweet drink and looked around the kitchen.

"I get that you are seeing my son," said Constance with certainty in her voice, although the statement was posed as a question. Violet didn't know whether she really knew anything or was just waiting for her to slip.

"I don't know what you…" Constance interrupted her with a small smile.

"Me and my son have no secretes. You really are a silly girl if you think we do." She felt insulted, but before a stingy answer was completed in her mind, Constance continued. "Tate had never had good taste in…girls," her eyes slid from Violet's face to her body "And I allowed his mistakes for needed to learn from them, but this time…" she smiled softly and let out a small chuckle, "The price is too high." Her smile turned sinister and Violet felt as if she was talking to she-Tate. She felt completely taken aback. What in the hell was that psycho bitch talking about? "You see, Violet," Constance's voice was now urgent "You are walking a thin line and I care about my son. I care about him deeply and I don't think it's your place to interrupt. Things get ugly quickly." Was she threatening her? Anger was bubbling inside of her body and she was ready to attack, not thinking about the consequences, when Constance spoke yet again. But this time it wasn't directed at her.

"Addie," she hissed "What did I tell you about coming downstairs when I have guests". Violet turned around to see a girl peeking through the kitchen door. She was dressed in a blue dress, her hands intertwined in front of her. When she looked up and her face caught a bit of the sunlight coming from the window, Violet's breathing stopped. Addie was suffering from Down's Syndrome, her features the clear indication. Instantly, all the information she gathered, clicked and her stomach clenched. Constance's daughter was mentally disabled and if all that Violet knew was true, the girl had a terrible life. She was feeling different things at once. Disbelief that Constance was talking freely about her daughter being basically an "abomination", sadness because of what that belief resulted in, and happiness when she realized that Tate had always cared about his sister and did everything to protect her from their mother.

"I don't want to see you around him," Constance's voice brought her back to the reality. "And don't think that I wouldn't know, even if both of you were lurking in the shadows." New-found hatred for woman in front of her spread through her veins and resulted in an angry spit.

"Don't think you have any say in this, psycho bitch." Violet hissed as she raised from the table and started walking toward the door.

"You are next," were the last words that Violet had heard before she slammed doors behind her.


	14. Chapter 13

**Hi! I'm so glad I wrote this chapter on time. It's slightly shorter than the last two ones, but I have to squeeze my writing between job and social life, and you know how it goes sometimes. Anyway, no trigger warnings for this one and I hope you enjoy. Something dramatic is coming your way next Sunday. :-)**

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Violet rushed upstairs, madness washing over her. There were several reason for her out- of-this world anger and she could pinpoint all of them. She was mad at Tate for talking to Constance about them, that was the first. She couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of him communicating personal stuff to his mother. Yes, she knew that he was dependant on her in some way, but she also knew that he hated her with the power of thousand suns. She was mad that Constance felt like threatening her, even if those were empty threats. Most of all, though, she felt caged. Everyone was sticking nose in her business. Ben and Vivien were all over her shit on daily basis. Tate was snooping around since the day one. Constance, whom she didn't even like in the first place, stepped into her life with dirty boots and tried to order her around.

"For fuck's sake," slipped from her mouth as she sat on the windowsill. As she looked cautiously around the neighborhood, her anger levels finally lowered. Sun was setting down and warm light made all of the gardens look eerily calm. Buildings were drowning in orange and pink, and for a moment her racing thoughts slowed down. They sped up again as her eyes focused on Langdon's house. All of their windows were covered with thick curtains, richly embroidered with fancy, floral designs. She realized that, except for obvious aesthetic reasons, they were there to not let a curious eye in. Funny how Constance respected her privacy to the point when no-one could even see if she was at home, but she could appear at your doorstep anytime. As with many things in her life, Violet was aware that she knew a lot about certain people, but she didn't _know_ them. Somehow situation with Tate and Constance made it even more clear. There was a lot of understatements, even holes, in the story. What was the deal with Langdons and their obsession with intimate relationships? Why would the adult man feel the need to reveal the truth about his romantic interests to his mother? No matter how manipulative Constance was, it just sounded weird. Especially since Violet knew that Tate lied, when he said that he was visiting his mother to comfort her. And what was the deal with "you are next"? Constance clearly posed a threat but about what? In what way would Violet be next? Her initial reaction was that Tate would dump her, which actually fit with her general outlook on things. But then she faintly remembered the time when Constance talked about his high-school girlfriend, one that she clearly didn't like as well. Did she do something to her? Violet didn't doubt that Constance's affection for Tate ran deep and if need be – she would do everything to secure his happiness and well-being. Did she hijack their relationship? Ruined girl's reputation? Constance seemed like the type. Her thoughts drifted from his mother to Tate himself. She felt something for him, this much was clear. But she just couldn't ignore all the bizarre stuff that she had noticed. Violet despised that whole "I lost my mind because of love" mindset. If she was in her mother's shoes, she would never forgive. She would never forget. She just couldn't understand how someone could go so blind. How was that love blinded people to the point of complete refusal? Yes, Violet did some irrational things. Her relationship with Tate, whatever it was, had always been irrational. Only that she knew what she was signing for. To erase the darker part of his nature was to erase him completely. And the closer she got, the more darkness she saw. He opened himself, and although his affection seemed pure and genuine, she knew that there were mechanisms rolling in his head on repeat. The ones that he just couldn't force-stop. His attachment to Constance was definitely one of them. They were bonded in a way that she couldn't grasp and that made her want to uncover their secret even more. She was in too deep. Too deep with Tate to back off and forget. Suddenly, an obvious idea struck her. Jesus, maybe he was behind with technology but she sure wasn't. Violet reached for her laptop and did what any normal teenager would do – googled him. His name popped on numerous sites, most of them connected with Westfield or university that he worked for. She cautiously researched everything and the information she had added up. He was, in fact, a track-running "star", mentioned on her high-school's website in "hall of fame" tab. He also didn't lie about his current job, his name written in bold over American Literature course. All the newspaper articles she stumbled upon mentioned his sport's career. Violet felt a bit disappointed, although she didn't know what was she expecting. It's not like his private informations would be made public. At least she knew that weird situation with Constance was rather a matter of family affairs than anything else. Violet sighed and closed laptop with a loud thump. Maybe it was best for her not to make assumptions about stuff she clearly had no idea about.

* * *

Each passing day was proving harder and harder for their relationship. For obvious reasons, they had to keep it a secret. His reputation and her parents' sanity were at stake. Well, not exactly. She didn't care if Ben would go apeshit over this information. If anything, she would be glad to see him restless. Only that his anger would result in numerous new restrictions. He hardly let her wander off when they were on civil terms, vision of his control if he was extremely mad was almost too much to bear. So secret they stayed, each meeting marked by Violet's lies to Vivien and sneaking out after the house had gone to sleep. That day was no different. Violet had created an elaborate lie about seeing her friends before school to make final touch-ups on their history project. She made sure that her mother would be sound asleep as she was leaving almost an hour before her usual time. Tate was parked in the spot that was now called "the usual", waiting inside his car with engines running. Violet loved those moments they shared either in the very early or very late hours of the day. They would be driving around the district, music playing faintly, images rolling outside the windows. Sometimes they would talk, small chuckles and smirks exchanged. Others, Violet would close her eyes and lean back in the seat, Tate's hand traveling on her thigh. Twenty minutes before the bell, he parked on the street in front of the main entrance.

"I'll see you tonight," he whispered into her ear as his arms tightened around her. She nodded her head and opened the door to step into overwhelming heat. First person that Violet noticed was Trevor, stopped in his tracks, staring at her with his mouth open. She instantly felt irritated, it was now quite clear that they would not be hanging-out anymore. Her pace was quick, head hung low.

"What the fuck," she heard his voice right behind her. Violet was passing high-schoolers gathered on school's lawn to make it into her quiet spot. "What in the fuck," she heard again and finally turned around.

"What do you want?" She barked at him, her eyes squinting.

"Why are you hanging-out with Langdon?" His voice was an angry hiss. Violet felt dumbfounded. How? How did he know him? She instantly became defensive.

"What are you talking about?" Trevor was standing right in front of her, his eyes widening.

"Tell me you are playing." She was quiet, her foot patting on the ground. "Jesus," he whispered finally "You really don't know." No, she didn't. Trevor gripped her arm and pulled her away from the crowd. She could be arguing that he had no right to touch her but she wanted to know. They finally stopped, far away from any curious ears.

"So? What's that burning matter you have to tell me about?"

"Tate was my older brother's friend," Trevor started "Back in the high-schools days, they were both track running." He took a deep breath. "There was a girl that always hung-out with him. Hayden, I think that was her name. At some point they became official, she was head over heels in love with him." Violet stiffened completely, she knew the punch would come any second now. "That was, until she disappeared. Fell off the face of the earth. They found her days later," He looked her straight into the eyes "Dead." Violet let out a small breath. "And you know what's the worst? Tate showed no emotions when he found-out. He was in school every other day, being as calm as always. My brother was more emotional about it than he was and he didn't even like her!" Trevor's words were getting frantic now. "Person behind her death was never found, but my brother… he knew. It was their senior year and after all the fuss had died out, they never spoke again." Violet searched her pockets for a cigarette. She lit it, her eyes focused on Trevor's face. She inhaled deeply as her emotions settled a bit. Her mind was a mess. She had no reason to not trust Trevor. Obviously, he just wouldn't make shit like that on the spot, even with his ability to bullshit his way through anything. No, he was dead serious, his emotions raw and livid. Still, she couldn't bring herself to believe everything he had just said.

"I don't know," she said finally "Almighty track-running star murders his teenage girlfriend with cold blood and the only person that knows the truth is your brother?" Trevor snorted, his face mean.

"Right, should have known that you wouldn't believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you but," he was staring at his boots "Your brother accused his best-friend of murder. That's some serious shit." Trevor crossed his gaze with hers.

"Yeah, well, they were friends, but Tate never let anyone close enough. You get what I mean? He was always…off. Distant. Weird. And Hayden. Hayden changed throughout their relationship. It was as if she was giving Tate everything he had and he didn't even seemed bothered. Truth be told, my brother said that he was using her for one thing and…" His voice was now filled with sadness "I guess Hayden didn't like it." So he got rid of her, Violet's mind filled the blank space. She shook her head in disbelief. "I just want you to be safe," Trevor said as he caressed her arm. Violet flinched. "I mean, fuck, I don't know. I'm sorry for that outburst. Maybe my brother didn't know the full truth but I believe him. I really do. Better safe than sorry, you know?" The bell rang loudly and Violet turned around to see mass of people coming inside the school building. She took a step back as to shook Trevor's hand off her arm.

"Thanks," she said "Thanks for telling me that. I'll think about it." After uttering her crooked goodbye she turned around and left, not looking back one time.

* * *

The longer she was thinking about Trevor's revelation, the more doubts she had. At first it sounded far-fetched. It could simply be a coincidence that grew out of proportions. Sure, Tate was distant. "Weird" as Trevor put it. And knowing him as she did, she could believe that in his hormonal peak, he chose to hang-out with some bubblehead who wanted to screw. Somehow, the cold-blooded murder didn't fit that image. But then, she tried to remember all the things that she knew. Hayden had been the ex-girlfriend mentioned by Constance. She must had been. And Violet already came to conclusion that the girl had done something to anger her. To "ruin" Tate's future. Theoretically, for years later he was in a pretty good place. Violet tried to look for a motive. Constance killed her out of spite? No, that wasn't possible. She was borderline, not homicidal. Constance killed her because Hayden was threatening Tate with something? But with what? According to Trevor he didn't even care for her. Hell, it took Violet months to get some truth out of him, and it wasn't even full truth. She doubted that his presumed high-school girlfriend would know something that Violet didn't. But then again, maybe Hayden didn't know his secrets. Maybe it was something else. Maybe the thing she had on him wasn't a threat on itself, but the thing that he saw as a threat? Violet's head was spinning. This was getting out of control. She felt embarrassed that she even had those thoughts in the first place. No, Tate couldn't kill anyone. He couldn't. This was definitely blown out of proportions, an assumption made by some guy he had known back in the day. She was going to talk with him, Violet thought as she entered her car. She would ask him about it and he would laugh, and laugh. And then he would say that she was crazy for even thinking that. Violet turned on the radio and drove off, leaving a cloud of fumes behind her.


	15. Chapter 14

**Warning: this chapter contains adult themes.**

* * *

Violet knocked persistently on Tate's door. She heard his rushed steps and took a step back, trying to look as emotionless as possible. He opened the door and his faced lightened up as soon as he saw her. She gave him a small smile and walked inside.

"I didn't expect you to come," he mumbled as she looked around and noticed stack of papers scattered on the sofa and the table.

"Grading stuff, huh?" She took a few more steps and finally rested against a kitchen counter. Tate was standing in a fair distance, his hands in pockets of washed-off jeans. He couldn't read her face and that worried him. "Hayden," she said finally. Blood drained from Tate's face. Violet observed how his cheek twitched.

"What?" He said after a minute of complete silence. His voice was flat.

"Hayden, your ex-girlfriend. Tell me about her." Her lips curled into a welcoming smile. She didn't know how he would react, and the way his whole body tensed and eyes traveled frantically around her face, worried her.

"How do you know?" He didn't sound angry but he wasn't curious either. He seemed uncomfortable, every word he spoke seemed forced. Violet found this whole situation somehow exciting, uncovering secrets at all. She seized the moment by retracting cigarette from her bag.

"Little bird told me," her words echoed in his head as she exhaled a gray cloud of smoke.

"My mother?" Violet smiled. So she was right.

"Funny that you mention her," she said "But no." Tate finally pulled himself together and decided to play it cool. He was sure that she didn't know it all, so it was his place to recreate reality in a way that he saw fit.

"What do you want to know?"

"Just tell me about it." Tate took a few steps in her direction.

"What's there to tell? We were dating in high-school," he was calm. "You know, high-school sweethearts and all." Violet had to push his buttons.

"Did you love her?" Tate snorted.

"No," he sounded amused. "I didn't. When you look back, you realize how superficial everything was." She didn't know whether she expected that answer or not. Tate seemed honest and that meant that everything she heard from Trevor, so far, was true. He didn't love her. He thought their relationship was superficial. Violet could only guess that it was superficial to him, not her.

"When did you two break-up?" Tate's face changed. He was observing her with attention to every little detail. For example, the way in which her eyes narrowed after she had asked the question.

"We didn't," he said "But we had a falling-out." What was he doing? Did he want to give her a clue? Tate was now centimeters from her.

"Why?" Violet was leaning uncomfortably against the counter, wooden surface hurting her back. He didn't say anything, his eyes drilling her head. "What's Hayden up to now?" Tate put his hands on the counter, locking her in.

"She's dead," he whispered "And you think that I killed her." Tate didn't fall into the trap, Violet did.

"I don't," she gasped as she tried to avoid his gaze.

"I think you do, Violet." There it was, the danger creeping into his voice. "You think that I got rid of her," he put his hand under her chin and lifted her head. "Or do you think that I killed her for fun?" She felt uncomfortable both physically and mentally. But she had to hear that he didn't do it. That it was all in her head.

"Didn't you?" Their eyes locked and Tate let out a chuckle. A chuckle that turned into a full-blown laugh. And then it turned into a hiss. His hand closed around her neck.

"Am I a killer?" His change of mood frightened her. She felt as if she crossed the boundary, accusing him the way she did. His lips crushed against hers and his arms closed around her body. She was trapped and various emotions were rushing through. Before she could vocalize her thoughts he aggressively turned her around, her torso hit the counter and she gasped for air. He held her hips in place as his head lurked between her neck and arm. He was sucking on the skin, painfully, his mouth nearly assaulting her and all she could do was to breath heavily. For a moment he stopped, and she could hear the unbuckling of his trousers, which was followed by her own sliding down. He put his hand on the counter and entered her with a loud gasp. Violet could feel her eyes tearing and she bended further to ease of her aching muscles. His thrusts were deep, each one followed by the loud slap of his skin against her own. She realized that no matter how aggressive and unexpected, she enjoyed it. Maybe she liked it in spite of those things. She leaned against him and rested her head on his arm. His hands were frantically running up and down her body, finally resting on her breast that he squeezed eagerly. His movements got more rapid as did his breathing, and he soon came with a deep moan. Violet's breath was ragged as she took a step forward and rested her elbows against the counter. She didn't turn around to look at Tate but she heard him.

"I'm sorry," he said "I'm sorry, Violet". His words were quickly turning into incoherent mumbling and he fell to his knees. "I'm sorry," he said again as his arms curled around her legs. His cheek rubbed against the inside of her thigh and Violet inhaled deeply. He placed his mouth on her and her whole body tensed, only to relax completely in a minute. His face was rubbing her in the most pleasurable way and Violet couldn't stop herself from grinding against him. Tate's hands rested on her thighs, squeezing her ever so gently with every moan she made. How did they end up here? Did he do it to take her mind off uncomfortable thoughts? To change her mind? She couldn't dwell on those things further as he started to suck on her skin. Violet gave in and let waves of pleasure pass her body, her hands gripping the counter to the point where it hurt. Tate was giving his all, pleasuring her as if his life depended on it, up till she came with a short scream. He backed off slowly and sat on the ground, wiping his face with a sleeve of his shirt.

"I better not be pregnant," said Violet as she put her trousers back on.

* * *

Sex was only a momentary distraction from gut-wrenching thoughts. When she lied on the couch as he was marking the essays, it all came flooding back. She didn't get a clear answer from him, but she knew one thing – Trevor wasn't lying. He wasn't lying when he described Tate's past relationship. Whether the person next to her committed a crime or not, didn't seem to matter as much. What made Violet nearly sick, was the realization that she didn't react in a way in which she should have. The only worse thing – she didn't have it in her to detest him.

To fear him. To be disgusted. Was she in love? Violet dwelled on the thought. Why didn't his assumed murder make her scream and run? Why was she more interested in hearing the truth from him, whatever it be, than having the truth on itself? Was she in love? Hours ago she felt lost. She felt scared. But now she knew that she wasn't scared of the truth. She was scared of her own feelings. Violet cared for Tate so deeply that it was clouding her judgment. She felt as if she needed a slap. A hard, burning slap. Was she becoming the type of person that once upon a time she would have sworn that she despised? Tate turned his head in her direction and gave her a smile, the one where his dimples showed and his eyes lightened with affection. Violet felt as someone who's drowning, but he's hardly catching breath anymore. He doesn't kick and scream into the void. He's still conscious but he has already given up. He lets the depth of dark water take him. Jesus, when did she become such a fucking poet. Violet smirked to herself and extended her hand to touch Tate's face. She closed her eyes and let her fingers roam along his cheek.

She couldn't stay a night. Not again. Violet was used to hiding stuff and bending the reality, but she didn't have any power left to create sophisticated lies that she would throw in her parents' faces. They parted ways minute after midnight. When she entered her house's driveway, all she wanted to was to lie down and doze off. She walked slowly through the garden and opened the front door quietly. It was dark and quiet inside, and she was passing the kitchen when she caught a sight of her father, sitting by the kitchen island, his hands rested in front of him. Caught red-handed and she didn't even feel like fighting. She took a few slow steps forward.

"Violet," Ben's serious tone stopped her "Come here." Fuck. She took a second to think about her options and finally turned around to enter the kitchen.

"Sorry," she started "I'm just really tired, I want to go to bed." She smiled politely ready to take off when Ben looked her in the eyes.

"Sit," he ordered and there was nothing else but to do as she was told. Violet dropped her bag on the floor and sat on the stool, uncomfortable silence making her shiver. Ben inhaled and exhaled loudly. He tapped his fingers on the surface. Finally, he turned to face her.

"Where have you been?" She was quick to make a ready-made answer.

"With friends." She made it sound as the most mundane thing ever.

"What friends?" Ben's eyes were studying her face. She smirked.

"Not like you know them." It was a safe statement. He didn't. He couldn't possibly know any of her "friends". Except for Trevor. But even if he was to ask about him, it would be much better to get caught "with Trevor" than to be caught with Tate. Ben looked at the clock placed on the wall to his right.

"Were any of these friends male?" Good, Ben. Good.

"They might be." Corners of her lips lifted. Ben smiled too.

"Do I know them?"

"Probably." Save. Now onto the usual talk about safety and girls going out with boys they hardly now.

"Was that friend, by any chance, a son of our neighbor and my patient?" He was still smiling warmly but Violet's face turned white. He must had been bluffing to get answers from her. There was no chance he would know. Jesus, Ben cared only about his ass.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He chuckled but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"So you never listened to our therapy sessions?" Violet felt blindfolded. "I knew you were attracted to…this kind of people. So I thought that letting you listen to them talk, openly, with me, would change your mind. Apparently, I was wrong." His voice raised a tone and Violet felt like dissolving into a puddle. "You think I'm stupid. Blind. Ignorant. Maybe I'm in some instances, but not this one." Anger was now detectable in his words "I've seen more than enough to come to this conclusion. So tell me, Violet, what did I say about my patients?" She was completely quiet. Not like he wanted to hear the answer anyway. They both knew what he had said. "I said that my family is not allowed to interact with my patients." He exhaled slowly. "And they are not allowed to interact with them because I treat fucking difficult cases. Who do you think Tate is? A loner? Romantic with shattered soul?" He made pouty mouth and Violet hung her head. "He's a fucking psychopath, that's what he is. Minutes in one room with him and I knew. The worst kind. Person who kills animals and sometimes people for sheer excitement of it! And I can tell you one thing, I don't have proof that he had done any of that, but I can bet my ass that he would." Violet felt as if she had taken the punch. She was aware of Tate's problems before, but hearing it loud and clear made her stomach turn. Even more so now that she was involved with him. Even more so because she didn't see him the way Ben did. She had to protect him. Protect them. She raised her head and smiled.

"Whatever you think you know, you don't know anything. I was out with my fucking friends, having fun like a normal teenager," she made a long pause to let the information sink in. "And I don't care what you think about it. You can't cage me in here like you caged mom." Ben was staring at her in awe, his mouth closing and opening. He wasn't expecting the words that came out of her mouth. He thought he had it all calculated, categorized. He thought the answer was in front of him. Wasn't it? Who was in the wrong here? Did he believe in something that he wanted to believe in, or was she that good of a liar? He was opening his mouth to speak when Violet stood up and marched angrily out of the kitchen. Ben heard loud thumps that her feet made on the stairs. He waited for the loud bang on the door, which happened seconds after.


	16. Chapter 15

**Warning: general warning for triggering content. Drugs, alcohol, abuse, sinister intentions - you name it. I just think it has a very big emotional impact so be aware of that.**

* * *

Violet had a full-blown rage quit. She rarely acted on her emotions but Ben's word stung. They stung and she didn't know whether she should scream, destroy her things, or roll on the floor, kicking her legs in the air. She paced around the room impatiently, waiting to cool down. At this point, she didn't care whether Ben truly knew about them. Maybe he connected the dots and wanted to see her reaction. Maybe he knew for sure and took his chance to lecture her. Maybe he wanted Violet to convince him that all of this wasn't true. But it was. And she didn't care, she really didn't. All she cared about was that secrets ran deeper than she had ever imagined. She sat on the floor and kicked off her boots. She swung and there she was, laying down, staring at the ceiling, her fingers tapping on the wooden floor. Was she delusional? She sure was taking part in this madness, she soaked in it, more than that – she absolutely loved it. She loved Tate. She truly loved him. But wasn't love supposed to be pure? Wasn't it supposed to be sincere? Weren't people involved supposed to trust each-other? That's what she hated about her parents. Lies. Delusions. Broken promises. Violet would never see herself as romantic, jesus, no. She wasn't romantic. Yet she hated that there was always something escaping her. Like shadow, Tate's past was creeping from all around her, and when she could almost catch a glimpse of it, it would disappear. The allure of unknown was what drown her to him, but each knew secret was taking it's toll on her. Violet wanted to know.

* * *

Tate knew that the day was coming. He was grading some terribly boring papers when the realization hit him. She already confronted him about Hayden. Whether he refused those allegations or not didn't really matter. Her question was an indication of distrust. He shouldn't have felt so surprised. He knew straight-away that she was observant. Curious. Violet was smart. And he knew from the day one that getting involved would not only destroy her, but him as well. He stood up, walked to the fridge, and reached for the bottle of beer, sensing madness creeping inside his head. There was no way out for him. For them. She would confront him and he wouldn't find it in himself to keep it together. He wasn't afraid of getting caught. No, it wasn't the case at all. He was afraid of losing her. The thought ignited panic in him. His muscles tensed and he could feel the blood hitting his brain like a wave. Violet was the only light he had ever known and realization that she could leave him was over-bearing. He had to do something, anything, to keep her close. He exhaled through clenched teeth and slowly walked into his bedroom. As any other time, his ritual was carried out with the same carefulness. Open the box, take out capsules. Pour them on the nightstand's surface, take a rolled dollar. Inhale, inhale, inhale. Lay down. As his body began to relax, his twisted mind produced an idea. Suicide. Leaving this world with your beloved one, what a way to go. Dorky smile spread across his face as The Smith's song started to play in his head. Tate was quick to plan things out. He still had some time to collect needed items. A carefully designed pill cocktail, recipe that he knew by heart. As it turned out, a mix of suicidal and homicidal could come handy at times. Maybe some nice music? Him and Violet had similar tastes, he was sure that there was CD in his collection that would make her completely relaxed. Drinks? Maybe wine. One glass to ease off her muscles. He nearly squealed in excitement. There it was. A way out.

* * *

Violet was walking around their back garden. Sun was slowly setting and she enjoyed the comfortable warmth. Her attention focused on scarlet roses that must've been planted by previous home-owners. Vivien took great pride in bringing them to life. Actually, her mother took great pride in all of the renovations that followed their stay. Murder House still had it's undeniable, bloody charm, but was now surrounded by flourishing flowers and bushes that made it look way more habitable. She kneeled and caressed her fingers around delicate petals. For once, her thoughts weren't running and she enjoyed a moment of peace. Violet turned around, alarmed by sound of steps and her eyes locked with Vivien's, standing over her with a warm smile on her face.

"Apparently you leave your room sometimes," she said. Her words didn't sound mean at all and Violet was glad that her mother didn't come to argue. Or so it seemed. She stood up and shook her skirt.

"The weather's nice." Vivien nodded her head and they started walking toward the house. Her face was still lit by a small smile, but she was definitely thinking about something. She was holding onto her wedding ring, moving it up and down her finger.

"Dad told me," she said finally. Of course he did, fucker. Violet didn't outwardly react to her words, she didn't even look at her. "I didn't come here to lecture you," Vivien took a deep breath "I just thought that we would talk… like mother and daughter." They stopped by the back porch and Violet sat on the stairs.

"So?" Her tone was accusing. "Talk". Vivien smirked and looked down on her shoes. Then she raised her head and looked at Violet.

"I know how it is, first love." Yeah, sure. "I don't know if he's the right match for you, with history of mental illness and all," she gave her a crooked smile. "But there are tons of men out there, sometimes the nice ones turn out to be the worst." Violet was staring at her, trying to read her face. "And after all, at least we know him. Kinda. We know his family, he's been to our house. Ben probably knows his most personal secrets." No, he doesn't. He really doesn't. "It's not really my place to decide whether he's a good person or not. But you know him and I trust you." Violet wasn't sure whether Vivien was trying her or was she sincere. She waited for her mother's next words. Vivien sat down next to her and took her hand. "I know that you despise me and your dad getting back together. I know that maybe that's your way of rebelling. But sometimes," she swallowed "Sometimes life happens. And you don't throw everything out the window because of someone's slip. It was hard for me. It really was, and believe me, I was thinking of leaving countless times, but in the end I looked past it. I really love your dad, Violet." What a cliché, talk of endless love from her mother herself. But Violet had to admit, it reasoned with her on some level. Maybe life truly wasn't black and white. Maybe it was time to grow up and just swallow the bitter pill. Maybe fueling her rage over and over again wasn't really about her parents, but about Violet herself. She threw her hands over Vivien and hugged her tightly. And she felt safe. And she felt good. Like a little child and grown woman at the same time.

* * *

Tate felt fixated. Waves of happiness were rushing through his body as he made his way into Harmons' garden. He felt like a naughty teenager, creeping by a man's house to steal his teenage daughter. The thought filled him with nostalgia, and he remembered the good times he had, rarely but still, before the thing happened. He stood right below her window. His window back in the day. All lights were off, and he knew that Violet was asleep. He would be surprised if she wasn't and probably mad since he wanted everything to be just as he had imagined. Tate had collected pebbles from Harmons' carefully crafted pathway and was now throwing them onto her closed window. They made an unpleasant sound and jolted back onto the ground. No movement inside her room. She must've awoken but probably shook it off in her hazed state. He threw a handful once again, and once again. Finally, the window slid open with a screech and Violet's head popped out. She instantly looked down and when she saw Tate, her face turned from delighted to angry in a matter of seconds.

"What the fuck," she hissed "What are you even doing?" He chuckled.

"Dress up and come downstairs." She had a look of disbelief on her face, her mouth opening, before she finally closed the window with a thump. Tate knew that she would come. She had to.

* * *

Violet was sitting with her arms crossed. A date on the beach. In the middle of the night. What a marvelous idea! Tate didn't pay attention to her obvious irritation as he drove through silent streets. He wasn't even there, as his thoughts wandered far away. In fact, they did that days ago. Silence did Violet good. She had time to reflect on the obviously romantic gesture. Romantic in Tate's twisted way. Soon she was smiling and grabbing his hand, gazing at his face, half-visible in the street-lights. They parked in the dark cul-de-sac and slowly walked to the beach. Violet didn't know why Tate decided on walking the distance, instead of parking closer, but she brushed it off as yet another of his bizarre ideas. He probably believed it to be romantic, almost movie-like with the sounds of waves crashing against the shore, and sky full of stars above their heads. Finally, they settled in a secluded area, fair distance from the water. As she observed, they couldn't be seen from above, nor directly from the sea-shore. Someone would have to walk to that part of beach on purpose to find them. Odd, considering the time. But then again, sunset was close and maybe he knew that people would start their hellishly early jogging sprees and dog-walkings soon enough. It seemed as if Tate had planned everything in detail, planting various items on washed-off, red blanket. He plugged his I-pod into a little, portable speaker; laid-out a bottle of, presumably, very good wine, and a pack of cigarettes, and topped it off with neatly packed sandwiches, filled with peanut-butter and jelly from the looks of things. Violet couldn't help but chuckle at his efforts. When he was done, he looked into her eyes with his heart-melting, dimple filled smile and grabbed his face into his hands. The kiss that he planted on her lips was sweet and long, and Violet felt dizzied when they finally parted. Tate turned around to turn on the music. Then he opened the bottle and handed her a plastic cup filled nearly to the top. She laughed and took a sip, and soon they were chatting and laughing, and Violet felt so good and care-free she almost didn't feel like herself. Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, when she noticed that Tate was staring at her intensely, his eyes so full of affection it made her stop half-sentence.

"I love you," he said completely soberly, and her stomach twisted. She knew that he cared for her, hell, she knew that he probably loved her but hearing that was something entirely new. She was awestruck for a moment before she repeated after him.

"I love you," her voice was trembling, but he didn't care as he hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head. They stayed like this for a moment, her heart racing from the overflow of emotions. She came back to reality when she felt him reaching into his pocket. He moved back and Violet had to squint her eyes to see what he was holding. It was a small bag, packed with various oval shapes. She looked at him disorientated. Did he want to take drugs? Now? Violet sure wasn't against experimenting, but the fact that he had a bag filled with pills made her uneasy. He gave her a completely oblivious smile before he spoke.

"I created this, this cocktail," his voice was full of excitement "And I thought that it'd be great if you wanted to take this with me." Panic started to set in her body. He didn't seem completely sane, in fact, there was that craziness in his eyes that she knew all too well.

"A cocktail? Why would we want to take a cocktail of drugs, Tate?" He snorted as if she said the silliest thing imaginable and she had to move back a notch.

"I don't want us to be apart, Violet," his voice was almost soothing "If we take this then we can be together for…for always." Her heart started beating loudly in her chest and she couldn't fathom his proposal. Tate was crazy. He really was crazy and she felt as if her limbs refused to move.

"You want us to commit suicide?" Her voice was now filled with complete and utter disbelief. Tate blinked as if he wasn't sure what he heard. He looked at the bag and then at her.

"We are running out of options," he said finally "They will find out sooner or later. We must do this if we want to be together." Thoughts were racing through Violet's heard and she didn't know if he was joking, or if he had for good crossed the line between crazy and sane.

"What they," she uttered "What are you talking about?" Tate hung his head and breathed in slowly.

"Violet, I'm changed now. I don't do this anymore. Not since we've become so close."

"You don't do what, Tate," she nearly shouted. Violet was on edge and she felt sick to her stomach sitting there, having this crazy-ass conversation with the guy she thought she loved. Tate was gazing at her as his eyes turned wet. He looked like a child who did something bad and was now being confronted.

"I didn't, I didn't want to do this to her, I," his voice trembled. "It just happened, she told me she was pregnant and I just couldn't, my head was spinning and the voices. The voices were mocking me, and pushing me, and… And they never left me. Those other girls did nothing wrong. I just, they…" He was nearly hysterical and Violet felt icing coldness spreading throughout her body. Hayden. He was talking about Hayden. He really did it. He did it. He killed her and it was done with a cold blood. And the…other girls? What other…The realization dawned on her and she let out a squeal. Those girls. Girls missing from their area. Girls like her. His therapy with Ben and the conversations they had. Him being in all those god-forsaken, shit-hole bars.

"No. No, no, no," she was whispering to herself. Tate crawled to her, his read eyes focused on her face. "No," she said as she clumsily tried to stand up. "No."

"Violet," he said "Violet, please." His hands landed on her thighs, trapping her in place and she let out a blood-hurling scream. "Don't, Violet, please don't," he said as fear made its way into his voice. "Don't scream." Violet was in a full-on panic mode. He had to do something. He had to make her stop. His hands covered her face as she tried to wiggle out of his grip. "Stop, please," he covered her mouth and nose with his hand, and she started to choke. She was choking on her own tears as he pulled her down on the blanket.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as her vision started to blur. "I'm so sorry, Violet."


	17. Epilogue

It really has been some time since I updated. I could go into details on why I left it without the final chapter, but who really cares. It is here now!

I must admit that this chapter has been in the works for the past year. Maybe I shouldn't say "in the works," I'd just open it sometimes and re-read what I wrote. Edit some stuff. But the real issue was that I couldn't decide how I wanted to end the story. In reality, that was the reason why I originally left it. I was pondering whether I wanted to take a dive and do something that I really wanted to do. I actually had three ending ideas and they were so drastically different that I couldn't decide. Welp, finally I did. I am really happy to have finished this, even if after two years. I know that it seems as if the ending gives possibility of the sequel, but I wouldn't count on that myself haha. I outgrown this story and while it is my first and my loved one, I don't think I could keep it up any longer. Anyway, that's enough of the rumble. I am sorry if it seems as if I am going to give you a masterpiece, given all that time. It really isn't. But it is how I wanted it to be.

Some additional info on previous chapters: I changed the overall category of the fic, it is now listed under "completed". I renamed the chapters. Decided to go for prologue/epilogue thing hence the chapters number changed. Basically, if the chapter was listed as Chapter 2, it is now Chapter 1 and so on. I changed the content **slightly;** grammar/spelling-wise. I spotted some errors while re-reading the story and they are now fixed.

Without further ado, here is the epilogue. Thank you for being on this journey with me.

 **Warning: this chapter touches on some _highly_ sensivite subject. Don't read if you are triggered by mentions of self-harm or suicide.**

* * *

Violet desperately grasped for air. Her throat burned and she started to cough uncontrollably. She was lying on her side, body curled in spasms. That awful scratchy feeling wouldn't go away. All that she dreamt of was a glass of water. Amazing how endangered mind thinks of the simplest solutions. Drink first, then run. Run. Violet breathed with a hissy sound. She did again and suddenly realized that she was breathing really fast. Run. Her body was already aware of the situation; it was her mind that needed some time catching up. When it did, she sat up straight. Her vision blurred and when her eyes finally focused, she knew what was happening. She knew where she was. Violet was sitting on Tate's bed, light from the window falling onto the bedding. She focused on prickles of dust bathing in the sunrays; the way the sheets weren't ironed properly, wrinkling in some places. Everything was perfectly in focus. She saw things more clearly than ever, all of her senses heightened. Tate was nowhere to be seen. He made it so everything inside was in its place, no clutter, no hiding space. Yet, she was waiting for him to open the bathroom door; crawl from under the bed; perhaps even jump from behind the curtains. But it wasn't happening. It wouldn't happen. At last, she came back completely to her senses. Back into her body and head. Violet really needed to drink. She stood up slowly, her muscles burning. Her head was spinning. She never considered the effects of asphyxiation. Her slow steps made an echoing sound in an empty apartment, falling deaf when she localized the sink. Icy water run down her face and into her mouth, she was swallowing hungrily till it made her stomach sick.

* * *

Why would he leave her alone? He had it all figured out. Why would he just drop it? Violet didn't know why she was even trying to understand his thinking. Suddenly, it was so clear to her that for some time now, she knew who Tate really was. And in the same moment, the realization came that she was nothing but a little girl who ignored all the signs just to get a thrill. How fucking cliché to get involved with a wrong guy to spite people around her. How mature. She would laugh at her own idiocy if her throat didn't hurt so much.

A wave of emotions was coming through her as she sat on a cold, bathroom floor. Violet was stuck in the mind of her own; going through all the things that she's been through with Tate; putting together all the pieces of the puzzle that now made perfect sense. She felt like a kid in hiding that was waiting for some sort of fucked-up punishment. She didn't know whether it was minutes or hours later when she heard the door being opened. Weirdly enough, her body didn't activate the flight or fight response. She felt emotionless as she listened to his footsteps on the wooden floor. If she had any expectations left, she would now wait for him to rush, or quite the opposite, to creep slowly into the apartment. But he didn't do that. He walked in as if it was a regular afternoon, end of a long day's work. She heard him approach the bed.

"Violet?" his voice was raspy and quiet and for a second she wondered whether she just imagined that. "Violet?" he asked again. It was as if she was no longer an audience in someone's story but an active character. She was pushed back into the flow of events, realizing that she might have missed her only chance to escape. Fear started bubbling up in her stomach again as she swallowed quietly. Blood seemed to pump in her ears, making her deaf to events happening around her. She didn't have a chance to organize her thoughts on what to do, when bathroom doors opened. Violet saw Tate no more than a few hours earlier, but he seemed so different. His face hollowed and eyes empty. Once appealing hair were now a mess of sweaty, sad curls, falling depressingly onto his forehead and ears. His hands were painted in blue veins, twisting around the wrists and sliding down to his bloody knuckles. His whole posture seemed different; shoulders bent as if he was carrying a terrible weight. In the short moment of her mind's clarity, Violet wondered whether he's always been like this and she just never noticed.

He approached slowly and lifted her by the arms, the feeling of his touch unpleasant. It reminded her of washing the dishes and how sometimes her fingers would stumble upon a piece of wet food. She didn't know whether he would attempt to choke her again, only to succeed this time, or whether he wanted something else. She dwelled on the thought of dying proud, just so he would see no fear; just so he wouldn't enjoy it. That was the last try of an adolescent mind to anger whoever was involved with her. But it didn't come to that, he took her hand into his and walked her out of the bathroom. Violet felt as if she had been given one last chance to run, but yet again, for reasons unknown to her, she stood in place and waited. Tate let go off of the hand and slowly walked to his bed. He started to methodically remove all the pillows and covers, leaving on only the sheets. He smoothed them out and then passed Violet on his way to the bathroom. It seemed as if once again she turned into an audience of a play perfectly orchestrated by Tate. She heard him shuffle through the cabinet and then he was in the room again, removing his clothes quickly, but folding them neatly enough. She was struck by a realization that this almost spiritual performance of removing stuff was the last thing that Tate would do in his life. At last, he sat on the bed, a small pack of unidentified something in his hands. He looked at her face with a smile. It was warm, possibly on of the warmest smiles he has ever given her.

"You are everything I have ever wanted," he muttered. "You are everything I have had." Violet's insides turned around. It was then that not only did she know Tate truly loved her, but also that his utterly twisted mind gave him no choice. If he couldn't have her in a way that he wanted, he would leave altogether. There was no other way out for him, and his complete awareness of the fact made her feel almost sorry for him. In another time she would have screamed and kicked to stop him, but now Violet felt as it was Tate's only chance at redemption. He ripped the small package and a shiny razor blade slipped out onto his lap. He picked it up and it caught a glimpse of the shining sun. Tate seemed to consider whether it was sharp enough, and satisfied with what he saw, he finally laid down. His eyes closed slowly before giving her a one last glance, and Violet knew that it was her time to go. She could have said something. She could have asked why he changed his mind, or why he had done what he had done. But in the end, Violet knew that no answer would satisfy her, and no matter the outcome of their conversation, it was all lost and gone now. Just by being there while he prepared for what had to come, she felt as if she had given him the final act of mercy. She was the last person to see him alive.

* * *

She didn't recall her journey home or whether she talked with someone on the way to her room. Maybe it was only after she had left that she finally realized. She faced death twice in one day; both times from him. Only that at first it was aimed at her, and then it was aimed at Tate himself. A realization struck her that she didn't truly want to die. She thought about it a lot, she played with fire when given a chance, but in the end – death was so final; it seemed so scary and cruel. She nearly despised herself for cutting, for ruining herself. She felt sick with the fact that the thing she played with so carelessly was a thing that ended someone's life. Violet wondered whether she felt anything toward him at all. If she did, she would have stopped him. No matter his deeds, she always thought it to so stupid to punish death with death. Yet she didn't stop him. She stood there and watched; the angel of death herself. Violet chuckled at the thought. Surprisingly, there weren't any unpleasant emotions anymore. She didn't shake, didn't feel numb, or dumbfounded. There was nothing of that fear left. She honestly wanted to laugh. If she could, she would laugh in Constance's face. Clearly that bitch knew. She knew about Hayden. She probably knew about all the others. If Violet had to point fingers, she would say that Constance was directly involved. _Her and her precious son_. Suddenly everything that transpired felt so absurd. It was as if everyone around her knew something that she didn't, and she wanted to laugh again at her own, deep immaturity. Had she had friends, she would tell them the crazy story of the murderous lover and his sociopathic mother. Her very fucking own coming-out-of-age story. Instead, Violet decided she had to tell her parents; her mother at least. Tate would be found soon enough, and as far as she knew, Constance would blame her for all of it. Violet didn't feel the need to be there for his funeral. She had no desire to visit his grave. She didn't want to face Constance, and she definitely didn't want for Ben to face her. Maybe it would be a right step to deal with everything that had happened. Then again, what was some more undealt with emotional baggage to Violet? As far as she was concerned - it was over. And she couldn't wait to get out.

* * *

It wasn't much later when she talked to Vivien. Violet didn't have it in her to make things sound better than they really were. So she told her mother the truth. She told her how they really met and all the things they did. She flatly explained his whole suicidal ordeal. Violet did it so Vivien would not get any more shaken that she already appeared to be. She expected questions, thousands of them, but instead her mother sat there with eyes wide open, hands holding the coffee cup tightly. Poor Vivien was probably expecting to hear of some silly teenage troubles.

"We need to tell dad," said Violet after a few minutes of silence. "Where is he?" she followed. Vivien shook her head slightly, finally awoken from her dream-like state. She nervously fixed her hair. Violet rolled her eyes as if the conversation wasn't a real kick in the gut of her mother's newly-found peace that California offered. "Mom," she pressed "do you even…" Vivien stood up from the chair and looked around. "Start packing your things," she blurted and went out of the room.

* * *

Things happened quickly. She was half-done with putting her things into a suitcase when the door opened with a slam. Ben walked in, visibly relieved to see her. Violet expected some serious questioning, but he only hugged her tightly. For a moment she really felt like hugging him back. She let him hold her for longer that was necessary.

"Baby, you need to keep moving" he said while taking a step back. "This is time sensitive." Violet nodded her head and went back to packing. She didn't know whether she would be coming back or not. She hoped for the latter. Soon she was carrying her things downstairs. Vivien was pacing nervously around the driveway. On the other side of the road, Addie was playing on the lawn. She was running around aimlessly, spinning, and laughing loudly. It was a bittersweet sight. Violet couldn't forget what she had learned of the Langdons.

Vivien breathed audibly and crossed her arms. "Get in," she said pointing at the car. Ben was approaching them after closing the door and checking them. Twice. He then put one more bag into the trunk and finally took the driver's seat. Vivien put on sunglasses and sunk into the seat. The car started slowly onto the road. Violet looked at Constance's house. It stood proudly as ever, its façade bathed into the orange hue of the slowly setting sun. The curtains upstairs were closed, but she swore she saw a figure in the downstairs window. It might have been her imagination.

They were soon passing the well-known housing district. Violet once again focused on the perfect green gardens and children playing on the sidewalks. She observed men and women walking down the street, chatting carelessly. Ben turned down the radio.

"You and mom are going to visit grandma," he started. "I will stay behind" Vivien shifted uncomfortably in her seat "…for now." He looked into the rear mirror and Violet caught his eyes. "They have no case against you," Ben followed "but I want you out of this place immediately." Violet wondered how he always tried to play a strict father. Do this _baby_ , do that. _You need to take responsibility_. Funny how that worked, it seemed that she was taking none this time. "I will set a meeting with an estate agent," he rumbled. Vivien nodded her head and looked into the window. "The market is not in the best condition right now, but the property was recently renovated so it shouldn't be a problem to…" Violet started to tune him out. She dug the iPod and earphones out of her pocket. As the song started to play, she rested her head against the seat. She was catching last glimpses of the city that she would probably never see again; the place that she would try to erase from the memory. Her eyes started to close slowly. She felt calm.


End file.
